Discord
by labyrinthinemelange
Summary: Sequel to "Mendacity." Thor and Jane are happily married, and Loki is a god once again, but the tranquility is quickly shattered when an unexpected visitor arrives on Asgard bearing troubling news.
1. Chapter One

**CHAPTER ONE**

"Darcy," Loki began for the hundredth time.

"Loki," she replied belligerently, grinning as she held her fingers out over her head as if guiding something on an invisible set of strings.

"I thought I was teaching you to change the size of things."

"Yeah, so?"

"So why are you making shadow puppets with my hair?"

She shrugged. The wolf-shadow on the wall shrugged. "Because it's funny."

Loki gave her a look of thinly veiled skepticism, crossing his arms. "Darcy, when you think something is _funny_, you start giggling like a maniac."

Darcy sighed, and Loki's hair fell back against his head once more, albeit in disarray. "Okay, I'm having trouble changing things," she admitted. She scowled. "Maybe I'd have an easier time making the stupid apple smaller if you'd stop distracting me."

"How am I distracting you?" Loki protested, frowning. "I'm just standing here, giving you instructions on how to perform the spells properly."

"Exactly. You're in the same room as me. You're _speaking_." Darcy gestured agitatedly at him, as if telling him to take a look at himself. "Distraction," she said lamely.

"Oh, I see," Loki said, his face breaking into a smile. "Would it be easier if I looked different?" He shifted into his frost giant shape, the impish grin never fading from his lips. Darcy put her hands on her hips impatiently. "No?" He shifted back into himself. "Well," he said quietly, raising an eyebrow as he stepped closer to her. "What if," he murmured in a low voice, staring into her eyes with mesmerizing intensity, "I spoke a little differently?" Darcy gazed back at him, leaning in towards his face, closing her eyes…

She pushed him away, shaking her head. "_You_ are such a _cheater_," she laughed.

"I cheated? _You_ pretended like you were going to kiss me and then pulled away. Besides," he said, "when did shamelessly flirting become a game?"

"When I started keeping score," Darcy said absently, turning her attention to the apple once again. She squinted ferociously at it and furrowed her brow, as if by making her facial features as tiny as possible she might enhance her magical abilities. Loki noticed with some amusement that the tip of her tongue poked out slightly at the corner of her mouth.

"And where exactly does that stand at the moment?" he asked, leaning casually against the table Darcy was staring at.

"Loki: 7," she muttered. "Darcy: 1."

Loki frowned. "Odd. I thought you mortals counted the same way we do. Because I can think of at least three times that you've—"

"Today."

"Oh." Loki raised his eyebrows, surprised. "Seven? Am I really that bad?"  
>"Worse," she said. She groaned and let her shoulders go limp. She rubbed her temples blearily. "This isn't working. I can't do magic."<p>

"Yes, you can," he said firmly. "I've seen you do it. And I know that you did quite a bit of magic during the battle. Animation spells are no small feat. I couldn't get the hang of them until I was ten."

"Thanks. That's comforting," Darcy said with a glare.

"It should be, actually," he said mildly, pushing himself off the table gracefully to stand beside her. "Most mortals can't do magic at all, Midgardians in particular. A _handful_ of demigods or descendants of gods have had extraordinary talent that likely stems from their ancestry—Shakespeare, Napoleon, Einstein, Fitzgerald, Hendrix, Williams, Rowling—but the last half-decent _human _sorcerer from your realm was Merlin, centuries ago. The fact that you can do any magic at all is quite extraordinary." He hesitated. "Now that I consider the matter, it's really quite a coincidence that my brother happened to land so close to you, that I should happen to encounter a mortal with so much magical potential."

Darcy sighed. "Or there could be a lot of humans with that kind of power, and they just haven't exercised it because nobody _believes_ in magic."

"Perhaps," Loki murmured, but he wasn't paying attention to her anymore. He was too busy spinning ideas. _Perhaps the Bifrost was attracted towards her because of her magic, as if it sought out that sort of energy in order to act as a bridge between two magical points…or maybe she's not completely mortal after all. She could be descended from a demigod._ His thoughts were interrupted by a loud crunching sound. He spun around, half-expecting Darcy to have broken her leg or somehow injured herself.

She had taken a bite out of the apple. Loki uncrossed his arms exasperatedly as she took another bite from the fruit, her feet dangling from the edge of the table and swinging playfully. "I figured out a way to make the apple smaller," she said unnecessarily.

"Very clever," Loki said, rolling his eyes. Actually, it _was_ clever. He had never specifically said that she had to use magic to make the apple smaller, or that it had to maintain its original shape. He sighed. "Well, that rather puts a damper on the rest of the lesson," he said resignedly, "seeing as _regenerative_ magic is much more complex, and uses up more energy than you can safely afford as a mortal."

"It's past sunset," Darcy pointed out. "Why don't we take a break for dinner? You can try to teach me something simple once we're finished."

Loki frowned. "More practice? You've been working on magic all day. For that matter…" He peered at her. "What have you done this week _besides_ magic?"

"Uh…" Darcy bit her lip. "Eat?" she said weakly. "And sleep?"

He shook his head. "I thought so. Take a break, Darcy. That might be why you're having so much trouble with this particular spell: you're over-thinking it, because you're so focused on not making mistakes." He leaned on the table so that Darcy sat between his arms. "Why do you want to learn so much magic so quickly?" he asked. "You have all the time in the world."

"There's not much else to do here. It's been dull for months since the battle."

"Then why not go back to Midgard?" Loki pressed on. Darcy looked down, refusing to meet his eyes. "What about your family? Your friends? Your work?"

"I don't miss them," she said so quietly that Loki could barely hear her.

He placed his hand on her cheek. His thumb traced the contour of her cheekbone lightly. "It makes you sad to think about them," he said. "But you don't miss them." It wasn't a question. It was a statement.

"No. I don't," Darcy muttered. "I love them, but…" She scowled, suddenly agitated. "I'm a terrible person." She pushed through Loki's arms easily; he offered no resistance.

"Darcy, you're talking to a man who tried to kill an entire race. I think any crimes of yours are somewhat miniscule by comparison."

"I _should_ miss them," Darcy said, her voice higher than usual. "I should want to go back to them, to my work, but I don't. I don't miss any of it. I didn't fit in there. My parents hated me because I was a crazy, treacherous liberal who had been brainwashed by the Commies. At school, I was always the freaky activist chick who hung out with the theater kids and newspaper staff because they wouldn't make fun of me for being a weirdo or a lesbian." She hesitated. "I'm…I'm not, by the way," she added awkwardly. "They just said that because I was all scary feminist and whatever. Just in case you thought—"

"Men don't like women who reject them so they write them off as Sapphic," Loki said flatly. "I think Sif beat up a total of eight men before that particular rumor died out. Continue."

"I took Political Science because I wanted to be a lawyer someday," she said wistfully. "I wanted my job to be interesting and exciting enough to make up for the fact that I'm a hyperactive loser with zero social skills." She sighed. "I should want to go back. I'm being a total housewife by giving it all up for a man. I used to _puke_ at girls who did that." She closed her eyes. "But sometimes I really think that I don't give a damn, because I'm _happy_ here. I like being with you, I like being with Jane, I like having friends. But I can't just hang around her forever and do nothing. I've got to do something. So I figure…I might as well learn some magic."

Loki raised an eyebrow and smiled slightly. "You want to stay in Asgard with your friends and family-like figures, because you didn't like your life on Earth, and you're learning magic because you want to do something useful here…and that makes you a terrible person?"

Darcy smiled in spite of herself. "Well, that," she said sarcastically, "plus I like to drown sacks of puppies and eat babies in my spare time." Loki wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed the top of her head. Darcy leaned back into his chest, laughing. "I'm sorry, I don't know why I got all emo all of a sudden."

"Misplaced guilt," he suggested, swaying her side to side absently. "You're not used to being happy. You're wondering what you did to deserve something good. If you did anything at all."

"Why am I getting the feeling you're not talking about me anymore?"

Loki didn't answer that. He grasped Darcy's hand and spun her around smoothly, almost as if they were dancing. He noticed that her hair was mussed by the turn and tucked one of the loose strands behind her ear. "No more magic today," he said. "It's no use wearing yourself out trying to do magic. You'll only make it harder each passing day you don't rest."

Darcy nodded. "I'll see if Sif or one of the Warriors wants to go out riding for a bit after dinner," she said, visibly making an effort to cheer up.

Loki forced his smile to remain plastered on his face to mask the thoughts that were flitting through his mind as he watched Darcy leave. He had other ideas about what they could do after dinner. But he silenced them sharply, feeling slightly angry with himself for thinking such things when Darcy was so clearly conflicted about what she should choose to do with the rest of her life. He suppressed a heavy sigh. Maybe he would join Darcy and the Warriors for a horseback ride. Or maybe he would just take a very long walk to sort out his muddied thoughts.


	2. Chapter Two

**CHAPTER TWO**

"How could you possibly think that blunt weapons are in any way superior to bladed ones? Where is the killing power?"

"I told you," said Hogun flatly, "it's not about the killing power. It's about the stopping power. In battle, what do you care more about: killing your enemies, or stopping them from killing you?"

"Is anyone going to finish this roast?" Volstagg interrupted.

"But it's not just about pragmatism," Sif said impatiently as though the interruption had never occurred. "Where is the _art_ in clobbering somebody over the head with a club or the broad side of a claymore? Using blades takes _skill_. But I suppose that would explain why you can't appreciate the value in them."

Fandral let out a loud, mocking "_ohhhh!_" at Hogun.

"Oh, stop it, you sycophant," Sif said to Fandral disdainfully. "Just because you agree with me doesn't mean I'm going to sleep with you."

Fandral looked down at his plate sheepishly.

Volstagg inched towards the platter in the center of the table. "Does anyone mind if I finish this?"

Sif sipped her ale and turned to Darcy curiously. "What about you, mortal?" she asked warily. "What's your weapon of choice?" Volstagg opened his mouth to interrupt again. "_No_, Volstagg, _nobody_ _cares_ if you finish the roast," she snapped. Loki, across the table, exchanged an amused look with Darcy, who stifled a laugh behind her hand. Rolling her eyes, Sif returned her attention to Darcy. "As I was _say_ing: if you had to choose one weapon, and you couldn't use anything else for the rest of your life to fight with, what would it be?"

Darcy blinked rapidly. "Uh," she stammered, her smile slipping away, "I don't…I don't know. I've never really thought much about it. I didn't really spend a lot of time fighting back on earth, except verbally." She gnawed on her lower lip thoughtfully. "Uh…" Her eyes lit up. "Oh. I know. My mind."

Sif widened her eyes. "Your mind?" she said slowly, as though not sure she had heard the girl correctly.

Darcy nodded. "Yeah," she said, a little louder. "I mean, it's like you said: fighting takes skill. Any moron could pick up a rock and clobber somebody with it. Animals do that. If I were to go into battle with only one thing, I'd want to be able to improvise…so…uh…" She trailed off, shrugging.

"But that's not a weapon. You can't kill people with just your mind," Sif pointed out flatly.

"_I_ can," Loki interjected.

"I'm asking her," Sif said, "not _you_. I don't even bother asking you hypothetical questions anymore, you just weasel out of them with some asinine technicality and completely miss the point." Loki smiled widely. "_Normal_ people," Sif continued, glowering at Loki darkly, "don't have telekinetic powers or magic."

Darcy sat up a little straighter. This was something she _knew_. This was debate…politics.

"Okay," she admitted, "I couldn't kill you right now with my mind if I wanted to. But if I wanted to kill you somewhere down the road, I could make it happen. Hitler, Stalin—" she noticed the blank looks on their faces. "Midgardian politicians," she explained quickly, "bad guys, long story—they were responsible for millions of deaths, they were behind it, but they never _directly_ killed anybody. They just talked their way into power and persuaded other people to their cause. You know, using propaganda and speeches and stuff. They ordered _other people_ to kill their enemies for them, and made them want to do it themselves." She gave Sif an innocent look. "You're the best warrior there is. Can _you_ kill six million people with a _sword_?"

Sif opened and closed her mouth mutely for a few seconds like a fish struggling for air. Then she glared at Loki. "Damn it, Loki, you've created a monster." She shook her head. "What have you been _teaching_ her?"

Loki put his hands up, smiling widely. "I had nothing to do with this." His eyes danced brightly at Darcy, laughing in their own silent way. "My hands are clean."

"Lunatics," Sif sighed, rolling her eyes. "Remind me to never leave you two in the same room alone again."

Loki waggled his eyebrows sarcastically. "Well, that might put a bit of a damper on our honeymoon, but I suppose an audience wouldn't be entirely out of the question." He smiled crookedly as everyone at the table except himself, Sif, and Darcy burst into raucous laughter. Darcy tried to look sheepish, fighting the urge to laugh, and Sif looked like she was going to vomit.

Darcy was saved from having to come up with a sarcastic reply by the blast of a trumpet from outside. Her face lit up. "They're back," she said cheerfully, dropping her fork and almost knocking her chair over in her haste to leave the table. Loki reached as if to take her by the hand, but she ran past him. He sighed and followed her, shaking his head.

Darcy could hardly contain her excitement at having Jane around again as she sprinted towards the front steps—and then she saw them approach.

She threw her arms blindly around whichever one of them was coming up the stairs first.

"You're back!" she said happily.

The figure she was hugging coughed awkwardly. Darcy froze. She was hugging a man…and that definitely wasn't Thor's voice.

"Funny," the figure said lightly, "I didn't remember being here in the first place."

Darcy blushed furiously as she broke away from the figure, a tall, wiry man with wavy blond hair and green eyes who looked to be a few years older than her. He raised an eyebrow at her display in a way that was eerily Loki-ish. In fact, now that she thought about it, everything about his face had that same mischievous look to it: the high cheekbones, the eyes that scrunched up when he smiled, that little quirk to his lips that made it seem like he was planning something. It was almost like he was a god of mischief himself.

She was saved from her embarrassment by the arrival of Jane and Thor behind the blond stranger; she mumbled something that sounded vaguely like "sorry," and hurried towards them to greet _them_ properly. The blond man watched her curiously as she ran towards the smiling couple.

"Hermes!"

The blond man turned around, his thoughtful look quickly replaced by a brilliant smile. "Loki," he said jovially, "my old friend." They embraced briefly, shaking each other by the hand. "Head still on your shoulders, I see."

"Of course." Loki narrowed his eyes, mock-suspicious. "You aren't here to hide from Hera again, are you?"

Hermes' smile faded. "No," he said grimly. "No, I'm not. I'm afraid my reason for visiting is much more serious." He glanced over his shoulder at the others, who were happily discussing the events of their respective weeks past.

Loki noticed Odin at the foot of the stairs out of the corner of his eye. He bowed slightly. "Father."

"My son." He turned his gaze to the others to welcome them. His eye widened. "Hermes," he said, surprised. "What brings you so far from Olympus?"

"Unfortunately, there is a very serious matter of which I must inform you." He glanced around suspiciously. "I think it would be best if we went somewhere a little more private."

"Of course," Odin said. "Thor, Jane, Loki: come. We shall talk inside."

Thor and Jane promptly ended their chat and followed the others up the stairs to the palace—with Darcy on their heels.

Loki slowed so that he found himself walking alongside Darcy behind the rest of the group. "Darcy, why don't you go find the Warriors? I'm sure Sif's calmed down enough that you can do something as a group without provoking her wrath."

"Are you crazy? And miss this?"

"Darcy," Loki said quietly. He came to a sudden stop and took her hand firmly. She tugged against him, puzzled. "I don't think Odin meant for you to be a part of this meeting," he murmured. "The Olympians don't come about very often. I haven't seen Hermes this somber in decades. Whatever he's here about, it's very serious."

"Then I want to be part of it."

"Darcy, please don't do this..."

"Why does Jane get to go?" Darcy whispered.

"Because Jane is a goddess," Loki replied patiently. His eyes turned cool. "And more to the point, _she_ will be queen someday, the next time Odin enters his slumber. It is her duty to stay informed of these matters, and to provide input, especially now that she is the goddess of truth and reason. Whatever trouble there is, it's her responsibility to get to the bottom of it."

Darcy crossed her arms. "Why can't _you_ be the king?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Just so you can be queen?"

"No. Because you should be king. You're obviously the smart one."

"I'm also the evil one."

"Not this again—"

"_Yes_, this again." He stared earnestly at Darcy. "For all his faults, Thor is a better person than I could ever hope to be, because it doesn't matter how hard I fight it, I will always have a sinister streak. I enjoy playing games, and bending people to my will, and those aren't qualities that a king should have." He closed his eyes and rested his chin atop Darcy's head. "I'm not a king."

"I think you are," Darcy said.

"Only by extension of the fact that you are a queen," Loki said in a low voice. He pressed his lips to hers hesitantly, and she returned the kiss in kind, their lips brushing against each other so gently that they were more connected by breath than by contact.

As they moved apart, Darcy studied Loki's face curiously, as though she were seeing it for the first time, watching the light and shadows dance across the contours of his face as he breathed. "King Loki," she said, testing the sound out on her tongue.

He tensed sharply as her words sent a faint shiver down his spine and up the base of his neck. Part of him wanted to kiss her fiercely and implore her to call him that forever. But part of him turned away in horror at the thought, at the possibility that he would _dare_ to dwell on these dreams again. He opened his mouth to murmur into her ear—no, he opened his mouth to command her never to say such a thing ever again. He forced his lips together in a thin line and sighed. "If it is possible, I will tell you what the purpose of Hermes' visit is."

"Tonight?" Darcy asked.

Loki shook his head, as if hoping that such movement might clear the smoke swirling in his head. "It's late," he said stiffly. "Tomorrow. In the morning."

He thought he saw a flash of disappointment in Darcy's eyes, but it was quickly masked by indifference. His heart twisted. _It's not that, please, don't think that I don't want you._

"Alright," she said. "Good night then."

She left abruptly, before Loki had a chance to kiss her goodnight. He watched her skirt swirl around her feet as she walked quickly away with a strange ache in his chest. "Goodnight," he said. "Darcy."


	3. Chapter Three

**CHAPTER THREE**

"Someone has trespassed on Olympus." Hermes clasped his hands behind his back and surveyed the room seriously.

"To what end?" Thor said. "What were they after?"

"I don't know," Hermes said grimly. "The intruder broke in to the armory and was heading towards the Artifact Chamber when Ares chased them off. We believe they were trying to steal one of the artifacts. We don't know which."

"Have you any idea who it was?" Odin asked.

Hermes shook his head, looking wide-eyed and on-edge. "None. But whoever it was, they are doubtless very powerful. Not only did they succeed in creating a glamour that made them utterly unrecognizable, but they managed to get past my security enchantments."

Loki's heart dropped for a moment as his mind went immediately to Darcy and her break-in months previous. And then he realized that Darcy had been with him practically the entire week, training with him. Still, he felt compelled to speak. "Is it possible that the perpetrator was nothing more than a common thief with uncannily good luck?" he said lightly. "It has been known to happen."

"My friend, we may both be gods of _mischief _and trickery in the loose, unofficial sense of the term, but I am also the god of thieves. I know every trick in the book, and cast my enchantments accordingly." Hermes shook his head. "No. No one except Zeus and the original owners of the artifacts in the chamber could have entered that room by any means other than powerful magic. That is why I have been sent here," he said, looking directly at Thor. "Athena believes—and I agree with her—that whoever this thief is, they will try again to steal what they were after. And given the degree of magic required to break through the enchantments, it is clear that protective spells and guards would be insufficient to protect the chamber. In short, we need help."

He swept his cape away from his shoulders to reach into one of the pockets. The entire room watched him curiously as he sank what appeared to be most of his arm into the magical cape to retrieve whatever it was he was searching for. A moment later, he withdrew his arm from the pocket, holding in his hand a single, golden apple.

Thor stared at it, confused, as Hermes set the apple down on the table before him. "An apple of immortality?" He laughed, holding it up to his mouth to take a bite. "Is that all? Why, take some of ours. Idunn has trees full of them."

"No, no, no—" Loki grabbed Thor by the wrist firmly and wrenched the apple from his grasp. Thor stared at him, affronted. Loki pointed to the surface of the fruit. "Look," he said, exasperated. Thor squinted at the apple, and upon closer examination, realized that there were delicate, spidery letters etched into the skin.

"'To the most beautiful,'" Odin recited quietly. "The Apple of Discord." Hermes nodded.

Thor furrowed his brow. "I don't see anything about discord or beauty," he grumbled. "All this says is—"

"Kallistei," Loki finished. "It's an Olympian artifact, brother. Did you expect the inscription to be in runes?" He turned to Hermes, raising an eyebrow. "Why are you giving it to us? If the thief is as powerful as you say, my enchantments would be surely ineffectual."

"That they would," Hermes pointed out. "_If_ the goal were to prevent the thief from getting to the artifact."

"A trap," Jane said.

"Precisely," Hermes said, nodding. "Iris and I will distribute all of the artifacts in the hall to other realms for 'protection.' That way, the next time the thief strikes, we shall know what it is they are after, and hopefully proceed from there."

Loki tapped his lips thoughtfully as he paced around the room. "Well, that certainly changes things," he mused. He crossed his arms and walked back around the room towards the others. "If our aim is not to prevent the theft, but to learn from it, I can set up enchantments that will tell us the thief's identity, regardless of glamours."

"Excellent," Hermes said, brushing his cape off and looking around the room. "You all seem to have the situation well in hand, so I had best go on to my next destination. Explaining this matter to Titania and Oberon may be…time-consuming."

Loki scoffed. "Talking to them is the easy part," he said. "It's getting them to _shut up_ and stop arguing in the first place that's the difficulty. Out of curiosity, which artifact are you asking them to protect?"

"Aphrodite's girdle. Given their incessant quarreling, I thought it would be best if I gave them one of the less powerful artifacts. Can you imagine if I asked them to guard Zeus's lightning bolts? Or—Hera forbid—Eros's arrows? It'd be the Midsummer Incident all over again." Hermes shook his head fervently. "No, I'm entrusting the more powerful artifacts to more _responsible_ gods and realms. I believe Iris is giving Hades' Helm to Ra and then proceeding to Vishnu's palace with Poseidon's Trident."

"Leaving us with the most dangerous of them all," Odin said quietly.

"I suggest you keep it as far from your dwellings and gathering-places as possible," Hermes said. "If you know that it's there, it shouldn't be able to catch you off-guard; I don't expect it will cause too many quarrels…but be wary. This is the apple that launched a thousand ships."

"I thought it was Helen's face that did the launching," Jane pointed out.

Hermes bowed his head slightly. "True. But if not for this apple, Helen would never have been involved in the conflict." He turned to Thor seriously. "Watch it well. Enchant it so that we may know if anyone tries to steal it. And remain always on your guard." And with a flourish and a bow, he vanished.

Odin stood stiffly. "Loki: take the apple down into the hidden chambers where the Jotun relics are kept." Loki suppressed the urge to flinch as his mind wandered back to their last conversation in that part of the palace. "Thor, go with him. For the sake of our Olympian friends, and our own security, we must know who this thief is if they intend to steal the Apple of Discord." They nodded and left.

"All-Father," Jane said softly, "might I be excused?"

"Of course. And Lady Jane," he added as she rose to her feet, "you may tell Lady Darcy what we have discussed in this meeting. But speak to no one else, and instruct her likewise. The theft of magical artifacts is a very sensitive matter, and I think keeping it secret would be safest for all involved."

Jane bowed. "Thank you, sir."

* * *

><p>Thor crossed his arms and studied Loki as he wandered in a circle around the dais holding the apple, waving his hands and muttering strange words.<p>

Loki scowled, feeling eyes on the back of his head. "Thor, if I'm not mistaken, you have seen me cast spells before. And yet you watch me as though I were a specimen under a telescope."

Thor shrugged. "I haven't seen you in a long time. I didn't recall you being quite so…sarcastic when I departed for my honeymoon."

"Then your memory must be tarnished, brother. As everyone else in the castle can assure you, I have _always_ been sarcastic. Unbearably so, if you ask Sif."

"That is not what I meant," Thor said awkwardly.

Loki sighed, returning to his spell-casting with renewed vigor. "Then change your words and say what it is you mean. I am in no mood for beating about the bush."

"See?" Thor said. "There you are again. I can't put words to it, but you've been behaving strangely since I returned. Did something terrible happen in my absence?"

"Not particularly," Loki said tersely. _Liar._

_Strictly speaking, you're not lying, _the little voice in his head pointed out. _Nothing terrible has happened. You're just a bit foul-tempered because of Darcy. _He resisted the urge to sigh heavily…or perhaps it was the urge to punch something. Or, more likely, it was the urge to run upstairs to Darcy's quarters and barrel through the door and—talk to her.

_Talk to her, _the voice in his head snorted. _Good euphemism._

Spell-casting. He needed to finish these spells. He waved his hands with more force than was strictly necessary, muttering and hissing the words in a low growl.

Thor stared at him a moment longer, and shook his head. "You're right. I must be mistaken. Forget I said anything."

Loki thought privately that, for once, Thor was more right than he could have thought possible. For a moment, he considered getting the terrible darkness in his mind off of his chest, telling him the whole truth: the lust for power that had sparked inside of him, the lust for the beautiful mortal girl who somehow managed to get stuck on his mind without doing anything at all, the way he felt bizarrely possessive over her whenever she came near him, as if he wanted to somehow make her indisputably _his_ for all the world to see, be it with a crown or a ring or some other mark.

He brushed the thought away. After all, what was there to tell? It was all in his mind. And he wasn't so soft as to need to talk to other people about the tumult in his heart over his more villainous side.

* * *

><p>Darcy and Jane were collapsed on Darcy's bed, laughing hysterically.<p>

"_Jane! _I did _not_ need to know that!" Darcy said, giggling in spite of herself. She managed to keep a straight face for exactly two seconds before looking at Jane trying to do the same. She snorted in a very unladylike manner, her face splitting into a huge smile.

"Well, you asked!" Jane said, blushing and laughing at the same time.

"I meant, like, in general! I was kidding!"

"I'll try to remember that next time the matter comes up," Jane muttered. Darcy let out an involuntary cackle as she imagined what circumstance could possibly arrive that would make her talk with Jane about _this_ ever again. Jane sat up, smoothing out the creases in her gown and clearing her throat awkwardly. "Alright," she said, grinning, "I blurted out all my juicy gossip. Your turn."

Darcy widened her eyes, her smile fading slightly. "Me? What do you mean?"

"I mean, you and Loki have been together for months now. What's that like?"

Darcy flushed. She stared at her knees, suddenly fascinated by the texture of satin on her nightdress. "Oh," she said. "Uh…interesting." She nodded. "He's been trying to teach me some basic magic that I can do as a mortal. And we talk a lot. You know, stupid stuff: books, things that happened when we were younger, I've been trying to explain movies to him, but he's a bit unclear on the concept; same thing with recorded music…"

"Is it serious?"

Darcy frowned. "Well, yeah. I mean, he's Loki," she said, "serious is kind of his MO when he's not actively-"

"No, I mean, like…"

"Oh." Darcy's face fell slightly. "Uh, I don't…I don't really…" She shrugged helplessly.

Jane's eyes widened. "Oh. So you're not..." Darcy shook her head. "But the way he acts around you, I thought for sure—" She pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Maybe he's just more old-fashioned than Thor. He _is_ more polite. But still, the way he looks at you and his body language when you two are nearby…he's so intense about it. It's almost like he's possessive of you or something."

"I've noticed it to," Darcy admitted. "But it kind of feels like he's doing it on purpose. Like he's holding back for some reason. I don't want to push it; he usually knows what he's doing…or…_not_-doing in this case." She sighed. "And then I get worried that maybe he's just not interested."

Jane rolled her eyes. "Darcy, if he were any more interested, he'd be…" She blushed. "I don't know. He'd be doing _something_." She stared at Darcy thoughtfully. "Have you talked about it?"

Darcy laughed. "I'm not doing this," she said, rubbing her eyes. She sighed. "Thanks for telling me about the meeting."

Jane tried not to roll her eyes at Darcy's less-than-subtle attempt at ending the conversation. "Not a problem," she said evenly, standing up. "It's late. You probably want to get some sleep."

Darcy nodded, yawning broadly. "Yeah. I'm sure there'll be lots to do tomorrow now that you're back." She waved at Jane as she opened the door. "Night."

"Goodnight."

With a last, somewhat awkward smile, Jane closed the door behind her. Darcy sat up immediately and walked towards her dresser to brush her hair. Jane might be a bit serious and—honestly—nerdy when it came to work, but she did have some pretty good ideas.

Darcy gave herself a last once-over in the mirror to make sure her nightgown wasn't _too_ thin or cleavage-y to walk around the halls in and that her hair wasn't in total disarray. Satisfied, she turned to the door and stepped into the hallway. After glancing around for a moment to find her orientation, she headed off towards the South tower.


	4. Chapter Four

**AN: I'm beginning to realize that this story won't be nearly as long as "Mendacity," but fear not: there will still be plenty of action and plot-line…ness…that's a word, plotlineness. **

**CHAPTER FOUR**

Loki stretched languidly as he made his way up the staircase to his room. He absently began undoing the fastenings on his chest plate, his mind wandering in circles around the possibilities for enchantment on the Apple. He grimaced. He would have to change the spell on his room; he couldn't possibly focus enough to maintain two doppelgangers at once for such a long period of time. He would have to hope that the Sleeper Spell would be sufficient to keep people out of his chambers.

A flash of lavender danced through his peripheral vision. He froze, halfway towards opening the door to his room. He sighed as he looked down at the base of the wall. _Please don't let that be who or what I think it is._

Darcy lay curled up against the dark wall in a heap, obviously sleeping. He sighed heavily and stared down at her for a moment—this was, after all, a rare opportunity to just look at her without getting caught. He frowned. She didn't smile in her sleep anymore. Her lips, rather than turning up almost imperceptibly at the corners, were frozen in a neutral expression and parted slightly. As he watched, her brows furrowed as though she were thinking very hard about something serious.

His stomach knotted guiltily. He did this to her. What had happened to the goofy, carefree Darcy that used to make up stupid poems and blurt out random things that he could only assume meant something to Midgardians, because to him they made no sense at all—but he liked hearing them anyway.

Then again, she apparently _had_ gotten the brilliant idea to sneak into his room to talk to him once he got back from the meeting. _More than talk_, the voice in the back of his mind nagged. He looked away from Darcy suddenly—this could very quickly turn from just admiring her face to, frankly, ogling her. But he had to admit that perhaps he was overanalyzing things; Darcy was still the same light-hearted, eccentric, surprisingly bright young woman he had fallen in love with. She still joked and flirted and did random things. She just…did them less often.

"Darcy Lewis is a very strange little creature, isn't she?"

Loki spun on his heel at the intrusion—and then he recognized the voice as his own, merely coming from somewhere decidedly outside of his own mouth. He narrowed his eyes at his doppelganger irritably.

"I thought I told you to permit her access to my room."

"I did permit her access. It's not my fault she fell asleep the second she stepped in," the doppelganger protested, smiling smugly. Loki suddenly understood why some of his facial expressions could generate the reactions they did—standing on the receiving end for once, he felt the urge to wipe the smirk off the doppelganger's face.

"I order you to refrain from enacting any of the protective spells I have charged you with upon her," he said through gritted teeth.

"Are you sure that's quite safe, to permit someone besides yourself unguarded access to your room?"

"What are you suggesting?" Loki snapped. "That Darcy might try to steal something, or break in for some reason? Besides," he muttered, "I think she's already demonstrated that if she wants to figure out how to get through something, she will. Now do as I command, remove the enchantment from her, and never again use your protective spells upon her."

The doppelganger narrowed its eyes. "As you wish," he growled. "Will that be all?"

"No." Loki slid his arms under Darcy's sleeping form and scooped her into his arms. Her eyelids fluttered softly, no longer sealed shut by the spell. She nestled into his chest as he straightened up. "I order you to temporarily cease your protection of my chambers and proceed to the passageways where the frost giant relics are kept. There you will find a golden apple belonging to the Olympians, the Apple of Discord. Guard it as you would this tower. Do I make myself clear?"

"Transparently." Without another word, the doppelganger vanished into the shadows, his arrogant smile nothing more than a nagging memory in Loki's mind. He frowned. He knew that smile…he made that same expression when he had just thought of some particularly clever loophole, when he knew something that Odin or Thor didn't. He gritted his teeth, trying to think of what vague, exploitable wording he might have used. A quiet, hoarse voice interrupted his train of thought.

"Hey," Darcy mumbled.

"Hello," Loki replied stiffly. He brushed a stray lock of Darcy's hair away from her face. "I assume that you are up here for a reason. You're quite a long way from your room to have simply gotten lost."

Her cheeks flushed deep pink. "Sorry." She shifted slightly; Loki loosened his hold, and she lowered her feet to the ground. She swayed as she tried to stand up. "I…just wanted to say goodnight. I didn't realize you would be gone for so long." Loki reached after her with a start as she broke from his embrace towards the staircase. "Goodnight," she slurred, her voice fading into a yawn.

Loki caught her gently by the wrist. "Darcy, you aren't honestly going to try to walk all the way across the palace like this, are you?" he said.

"What—" she yawned again, "—what else should I do?" she said thickly. The words sounded as if they were stumbling off her tongue without any thought. "I'm too tired to s-stay up and do anything else." She held out the last 's' for a half-second, and then burst out giggling. Loki was struck by the thought that he might be getting a good idea of what a drunk Darcy looked like. He sighed exasperatedly.

"You should _sleep_, Darcy. And at the moment, it doesn't look like you can get yourself back into your own bed. Not without collapsing somewhere in the corridors." He draped his arm around her shoulders and steered her back towards his room.

Darcy said something incoherent that might have been a protest, or perhaps the beginnings of a snarky remark, but she stumbled alongside Loki down the hall into his room. _His room_. For a moment, Loki panicked and considered casting a spell on Darcy to give her enough energy to stagger back to her own bedroom, or maybe an animation enchantment so she would walk there in her sleep. Then he realized that he was being a complete fool; it wasn't as if Darcy hadn't already _slept_ with him in the literal sense of the term.

_Well, yes, but it's the less literal sense that I'm concerned about. What if she wakes up in the morning and gets the same brilliant idea that in all likelihood brought her up here in the first place? For that matter, what if you get some brilliant idea?_

He was already getting brilliant ideas. But he knew well enough to push them away. Not yet. Not while she was still a fragile mortal. Surely he would be able to remember that much, even in the early morning when his mind was clouded by sleep.

He looked on with forced detachment as Darcy crawled onto his bed and under the covers, practically asleep before her head touched a pillow. He watched for a moment to make sure that she was truly sleeping, and then removed his armor and shirt. As he undressed, he noticed that Darcy's features were relaxed again. He hesitated, leaning against the bedpost to study her more closely—perhaps it was a trick of the light.

She was smiling. Not the small, half-smile he had seen on Jotunheim while she slept, but a fully fledged smile that made her eyes crinkle up and the corners of her mouth dimple. Loki shook his head, running a hand through his hair to muss it up so he could sleep comfortably. His doppelganger had gotten one thing right: Darcy Lewis was a strange girl. He couldn't tell which was really her: the smile or the frown. Was she smiling for his sake, to make him believe that she was happy when she was really miserable on Asgard? Or was it the other way around—was it the frown that was a fluke, a random thought that crossed her mind and caused her to scowl so?

Maybe, he thought as he slid under the sheets, Darcy instinctively curling into his side with her head on his shoulder—maybe it was some combination of the two. Maybe that was Darcy: a mixture of smiles and frowns, not because one or the other was faked, but because she truly felt the need to smile at some thoughts and frown at others. He sighed and shifted slightly, his chin brushing the top of Darcy's head. He was overanalyzing, as always. There was no reason for him to suspect Darcy of anything, so why was he paying so much attention to every minute detail of her response to the world around her? What was he scared of?

He already knew the answer to that question—and that was one of the things that scared him: his answer. He loved her. And he was terrified that she wouldn't love him in return.

* * *

><p>"That's it…" Loki said in a low voice. "Focus."<p>

"I'd have an easier time focusing if you didn't interrupt me every five seconds _telling me_ to focus," Darcy grumbled, but she smiled nonetheless. Her hands shook slightly as she extended her fingers over the ground, as though they were tied to the invisible strings of a marionette. Abruptly, a shoot of bright green sprang up from the soil, flowering and thickening before her eyes.

"I got it!" she cried, smiling broadly. "That is so freaking cool!"

Loki laughed as Darcy made an entire shrub begin to grow from the first shoot, sending roots growing madly in all directions. "Careful," he said, sobering suddenly. He held his hand over Darcy's and lowered her arm a fraction. "Even with your endurance, you can't do too much magic at once." He frowned, feeling something tickling his lower leg. He glanced down. "Darcy—"

She snorted. "Sorry," she said, not sounding very sorry at all. She bit her lip in a vain attempt to stop smiling as she killed off the branch that had begun to use Loki's left leg as a trellis. He shook the dead plant away with a sharp cracking sound, sighing in a way that hinted at annoyance but mostly came across as amused and affectionate. Satisfied that the plant had finally stopped growing—or at least, growing on his person—he looked up at Darcy seriously.

"That's very interesting," he murmured. "I didn't think of it before, but in the battle for Asgard, you used plants as a weapon, didn't you?"

Darcy nodded. "Yeah. Plants and a statue that I reanimated—a horse."

Loki tapped his lip thoughtfully. "Interesting," he said under his breath.

"What's interesting?" she asked.

Loki began to reply—only to be abruptly interrupted by a loud _CRACK_ from across the garden. He spun on his heel, reaching instinctively for his dagger. He groaned aloud.

"Oh no…"

Darcy opened her mouth questioningly, and then saw exactly what Loki was looking at. Her eyes widened slightly.

A tall man with shaggy red hair and deep purple robes stormed across the garden in a fury. A second _CRACK_ rang through the garden; a woman in a billowy purple dress stormed after the red-haired man, a long curtain of dark, wavy hair fanning out behind her, the grass beneath her bare feet turning brown whenever she touched the earth.

"Oberon, stop this nonsense!" the woman wailed. "You tell me where the girdle is right now, or I'll…I'll…"

"You'll what?" the man replied, laughing mockingly. "Grow flowers at me?"

"I'll sleep with a mortal."

The man glowered. "You wouldn't."

"I would! I don't care how weak they are, I'm sure that any man, mortal or not, would be better than _you_ in bed! Even—even _if_ they have an asses head!"

"Fine!" the man snapped. "If that's what you want, fine! I don't have the stupid girdle! But if you still want to sleep with a mortal, that's alright by me, because you know what? I've got my eye on a couple of mortal children."

"You bastard! We had an agreement! We share custody of changeling children! One week with mummy, one week with mummy's idiot husband! You can't just go back on a contract!"

"Watch me!" Oberon pulled a piece of paper seemingly from mid-air and tore it in half viciously. The woman gasped loudly—and slapped the man with a resounding _smack_ that echoed all through the gardens.

As the couple continued to bicker furiously, Loki heard a small pop. He turned to look at the source of the noise. Hermes scowled back at him, looking weary and bedraggled. He jerked his head significantly at the arguing fairies. Loki grimaced sympathetically, and decided that the time had come to cut off the unhappy couple.

"Hermes!" he said brightly. "How nice to see you so soon! Oh, and Titania," he added as an afterthought, trying not to roll his eyes too obviously. "And Oberon. What brings the three of you here this fine afternoon?"

Before Hermes had a chance to reply, Titania stepped forward, her eyes blazing. "I'll tell you what brings us here," she snarled. "My husband, instead of guarding Aphrodite's girdle like a responsible man, has stolen the girdle for his own, as a gift for one of his mortal lovers."

Hermes tried to interrupt, but Oberon cut him off with a humorless laugh. "Oh, that's rich, coming from you, Titania! I'll bet if we were to take off your dress right now, we'd all see that you're wearing the silly girdle yourself! Probably trying to hop into bed with the trickster prince, _again_."

Titania yelled in protest.

The fairy couple continued bickering in raised voices. Darcy raised an eyebrow at Loki. _Her?_ she mouthed, looking somewhat repulsed. Loki shook his head. _No, _he mouthed emphatically, shaking his head. Darcy continued to stare at him questioningly. _Later,_ he mouthed. She nodded, and returned her attention to the couple, crossing her arms.

"Excuse me!" Hermes was saying loudly.

The couple ignored him, and continued to argue in raised voices.

Loki gritted his teeth. "Excuse me!" he repeated for Hermes' sake, a little louder. The couple showed no reaction.

Darcy groaned audibly. "OY!" she yelled, loud enough to make Loki and Hermes jump. Titania and Oberon fell silent all at once, staring awestruck at the mortal girl screaming at them; they seemed to have just noticed her for the first time. "Jeez Louise, will you two please shut up for a few minutes so we can figure out what the hell is going on?"

Titania stammered quietly. "You…y-you…" She mumbled something in a soft whisper that Loki thought might have contained the name "Nick," but he couldn't be certain. Oberon suddenly turned very red, and he glared between Darcy and Titania furiously.

"Oh, surely…" he growled. Titania turned pale, looking back at him with something bordering on sheepishness. "Titania—" he snarled.

She vanished with a loud _CRACK_.

"You aren't getting away from me so easily!" Oberon snapped. And with another _CRACK_, he too disappeared.

Darcy blinked at the space where the fairies had stood moments before, completely at a loss for words. "What the fuck was that about?" she said finally.

Hermes sighed. "I haven't the faintest," he said, rubbing his temples. "But whatever it is, it's certainly put both of them in a very foul mood. I originally came here to collect the Apple; you see, that's what they began arguing about—the girdle has gone missing, so we now know what it is the thief was after, and can thus take back the other artifacts." He sighed again, exasperated. "I'm afraid I'll have to come back later to retrieve it, though. I really should follow them to make sure they don't do anything too dangerous. Those two can be very destructive when they're fighting." He bowed slightly to Darcy, and tipped his hat to Loki. "I will return as soon as I can, within a day, I expect; they usually calm down pretty quickly. Until then…"

Hermes vanished with a small popping sound.

Darcy stared at Loki, open-mouthed. "Are they _always_ that bad?"

Loki nodded fervently.

**AN: I love Titania and Oberon. They're so much fun to write. (Also, to act. SOOO much fun.) Sorry for the somewhat cryptic ending to this chapter—it will all make sense in due time.**

**Also, I feel the need to share with you all the soundtrack in my head for Titania and Oberon's scenes, since (at least in my mind) the music just makes their hamminess that much more awesome: "Professor Umbridge" (from HP5), "Gilderoy Lockhart" (from HP2), and "No Ticket" (from Indiana Jones 3).**

**Reviews are love! **


	5. Chapter Five

**CHAPTER FIVE**

It was near dusk, and the Asgardians had gathered in the Great Hall for a feast in honor of Thor and Jane's return. The entire congregation was decked out in their finery: metallic armor, vivid capes and cloaks, silken, satin dresses in a rainbow of colors, glittering jewel earrings and necklaces…_salad_.

Volstagg whipped his head back and forth, bewildered, as Thor, Fandral, and Hogun broke down into poorly-disguised laughter. Even Jane giggled, although she tried to suppress it by clapping a hand to her mouth.

"What?" Volstagg said. A sprout of arugula began to weave aggressively through his beard, sprouting little flowers and making tiny braids as it went. He glanced between the others at the table, oblivious to the redecoration his facial hair was receiving. "Did I say something?"

Thor snorted abruptly. All at once, the charade of pretending not to laugh was abandoned, and the others joined him in hysterical laughter—all except for Darcy and Loki. The former was completely stoic, her expression smooth enough to rival a master poker player. Loki seemed to be debating whether to play along and perhaps mess with Volstagg's head or to reprimand himself for not thinking of such a joke sooner.

"Should I tell him?" Darcy whispered out of the corner of her mouth, her fingers twitching slightly under the table. The arugula was joined by a tendril of alfalfa; the two plants began to do battle over which would dominate Volstagg's beard as the primary decoration.

Loki watched the two leaves duel over several strands for a moment, his eyes flickering with amusement over the oblivious confusion written all over Volstagg's face. "Nah," he said quietly. And then his eyes widened.

He did a double take, glancing between Darcy's stiff, shaking fingers making puppeteering motions under the table and the salad that had turned the lower half of Volstagg's face into a web of greenery.

"Darcy," he hissed. "Stop."

"Why?" she replied, grinning crookedly. "I'm not done. I was going to see if I could get a couple of forks to make a little crown to go on top of his head."

Loki's stomach knotted as Darcy's eyelid flickered randomly.

"Darcy," he muttered warningly.

"You're right," she conceded, lowering her hand. Loki breathed a sigh of relief. "It would be much more fun to make the forks into spiders and make them crawl into Freya's dress."

"No, no, no…" Loki's arm leaped out to grab Darcy by the wrist, but he was off by a fraction of an inch.

Smiling like a little kid in a candy shop, she held both hands out loosely under the table and arranged her fingers into spidery figures. All at once, she stopped smiling. Her eyes went wide with panic and turned to look at Loki. He winced; her expression was one of pure terror, the face of a warrior wounded, scrambling to process what was happening to her. Her spine gave out.

Loki managed to catch her this time, his hands guiding her by the shoulders into his lap before she could land on the table and shatter any goblets, or stab herself on any of the cutlery. Jane's head whipped around. She met Loki's eyes questioningly. He grimaced. Jane's expression turned dark as she understood.

Fandral continued to laugh loudly as the rest of the table fell silent. After a few seconds of laughing on his own, he chuckled awkwardly. Loki and Sif shot matching death glares at him. His smile faded. "She, uh," he said slowly, beginning to understand, "she's not passed out drunk? Is she?" Loki narrowed his eyes in a 'what do you _think_' expression. Fandral _oh_ed softly. Sif clucked her tongue and smacked the back of his head lightly. He flinched.

Loki glowered at him for a moment longer before returning his attention to Darcy, gritting his teeth as he watched for some sign of life. He sighed with relief. She was still breathing.

He felt a large hand on his shoulder as someone looked over it to see Darcy. "Is she alright?" Thor asked.

"Alright?" Loki scoffed. "No. Insane? Apparently suicidal? Yes."

"Will she live?"

Loki softened slightly at the look of concern furrowing Jane's brow. He sighed. "Yes, Jane, she will live. I'm sure she'll be running around making trouble within the hour. She just did too much magic at once." He scooped Darcy up in his arms for the second time in less than a day. "Continue your merriment," he said, glancing along the table to the other lords and ladies, who were craning their heads to see the commotion. "This is a minor accident. Not worth causing a panic over."

Adjusting Darcy so he could carry her without making a spectacle, he left the room.

* * *

><p><em>Uhhhhhhnnnn….<em>

Darcy made a mental note that messing with the Warriors Three was _not_ worth this much pain. It felt like she had a hangover…a twenty-first birthday hangover. She noticed that she was moving forward and being jostled slightly. She opened her eyes. _Déjà vu._

"Is this going to be a regular thing: you carrying me to your room?"

Darcy expected him to crack a smile, or look down at her all adorably startled by the fact that she was awake. To her surprise, he continued walking at an even pace, his eyes fixed on something further down the hall.

"Maybe I wouldn't have to carry you so often if you didn't keep passing out," he said coldly.

She squinted at him. "What's the matter with you?" He didn't reply. Darcy rolled her eyes. "Anyway, I'm not complaining," she said defensively. "It's kind of nice. Plus, it's, like, the only time you ever hold me."

Loki stopped with a jerk, his fingers tightening around Darcy's shoulders and knees. Without warning, she found her feet being placed firmly back on the ground. She frowned: Loki was behaving very strangely. His eyes were cold and distant, and every movement from his posture to his facial expressions seemed very forced and controlled.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but that sounds an awful lot like a complaint to me," he said in something bordering on a growl.

Darcy chafed silently. _What the hell? Why is he being such a bastard? _"Maybe it is," she said, raising her voice defiantly. Loki seemed to be staring at some point on her shoulder, determined not to meet her eyes. She deflated for a moment. "Loki, what's going on? You're being really weird."

"Weird?" he repeated. "Funny choice of words, coming from you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Loki laughed hollowly, his eyes rising to the ceiling without stopping to meet her confused gaze. "'What's that supposed to mean,' she asks," he said scathingly. At last, he looked her in the eye. Darcy was taken aback. Something was wrong with him, something in his eyes. He looked…he looked like he had when she first met him, when he was hateful and angry at the whole world, at Thor. "What do you think it's supposed to mean?" he hissed. "Is it really so hard to understand? I was commenting on the irony of being called 'weird' by a woman who seems to have her heart set on causing me as much distress as humanly possible by perpetually showing off in some misguided attempt to—to, I don't know, impress me, or something—and by constantly throwing herself at me."

Darcy gaped at him, fighting the impulse to burst into tears or throw her arms around him and try to soothe whatever wound was plaguing him. She curled her hands into fists. She felt the strength of fury in her veins, pushing away the hurt. "Maybe I wouldn't _throw myself_ at you all the time if you would just pretend that you wanted me as much as I want you," she stammered, her voice growing stronger with every syllable, "as if you actually had some intention of sleeping with me at some point."

The moment she finished speaking, Darcy realized that she had crossed a line. She felt her cheeks turn scarlet, and then cold and pale. She couldn't apologize; she was paralyzed by the intensity of Loki's stare.

"Do you really think that this is about want?" he said quietly. Darcy opened and closed her mouth wordlessly. Loki smiled without humor and began to inch towards her. She backed away slowly until her heel touched the wall. "This has nothing to do with want," he hissed, his cold smile vanishing in the blink of an eye. "This is about your safety. This is about the fact that I am a god and you are a mortal. Do you realize how easily I could hurt you?" He inched closer so that she could feel his breath against her face. "Do you realize how little effort it would take me to kill you, right here, right now? I wouldn't even have to try. I could kill you, instantly," he said, his voice shaking, "without even meaning to hurt you. If I held you too hard, if I pushed you against this wall in the heat of a moment, I could shatter every bone in your body. If I kissed you too long, I could forget that you don't have to breathe and suffocate you. If I curled my fingers into your arms, I could lose control of my magic and you would be dead before you could even look me in the eye."

Darcy's eyes darted around frantically, searching his face for some hint of softness, some clue as to what was going through his mind besides hate. All she could see was hatred, intensity that blurred the line between fury and chaos in a blazing inferno.

Loki smiled sarcastically. "But no," he said, his voice cracking and changing from his smooth, low murmur to a raw, hoarse tenor. "You just had to go ahead without a moment's thought for your own safety," he said in a mad imitation of gaiety. "What do you care that our lives are bound together forever beyond the point of inseparability? You just want to do your little magic tricks, and maybe make love to the stupid trickster inexplicably wrapped around your little finger." His expression darkened again. "I see now that I am nothing more than a dalliance to you."

"Loki, I'm sorry. I didn't think—" Darcy stammered, trying to hold back her tears, "the risk, I didn't realize—"

"Of course you didn't realize," he yelled. Darcy stared at him. She couldn't understand what was happening. _What happened to him?_ She felt like someone was punching her in the ribcage. "How could you? You're just a silly, stupid, mortal girl!"

* * *

><p>All at once, something in Loki's mind snapped into place. He gasped for air. It was as though he had just been awoken by a slap in the face. He remembered Darcy's eyes, wide and blue and brimming with tears. His heart sank. <em>Oh no…Oh, what have I done? <em>He blinked rapidly, trying to regain his composure. He felt his own eyes burning furiously as he struggled to meet Darcy's gaze, embarrassed to look her in the eye. He stepped away from the wall in shame, removing his arms from their cage-like hold around Darcy. He closed his eyes.

When Darcy broke the silence, her voice seemed to come from him down a long tunnel. "So that's what you think of me," she said coolly.

Loki looked up at her with wide-frantic eyes, trying to plead silently for her forgiveness. He found himself unable to form the words that filled his mind like an ache. _Darcy…please…I didn't mean it…I don't know what came over me…Please, please, I'm so sorry...What have I done….what have I done…_

"Maybe I'm not the one who's dallying," she said scathingly.

And before he could protest, she stormed off.


	6. Chapter Six

**CHAPTER SIX**

Loki awoke with the distinct feeling of a weight on his chest. He raised his head blearily to glance down the length of the bed, wondering if he had perhaps fallen asleep trying to read through a stack of large books. His chest was bare and unobscured by books, but somehow it still ached as though something heavy were pressing down upon his ribcage. Besides, he realized with a start, he hadn't fallen asleep reading since he was a young boy. He had mastered Wakefulness Spells _years_ ago; if he was intent on finishing a book despite the late hour, he could use the spell stay awake for hours without getting tired.

He scowled. He was tired _now_. He racked his memory to think of what he could have possibly been doing the night previous that kept him up so late?

Something in his brain clicked, and the memories flooded into him like a punch to the stomach. Pacing his room half the night…Darcy…magic…carrying her…yelling at her…the hallway…

He groaned furiously and rubbed his eyes as he sat up. It was times like this that he almost wished Sif were around to slap some sense into him. This fiasco definitely merited a slap upside the head, perhaps even multiple slaps. He was a fool, an absolute idiot, for not realizing it at the time: he had been carrying her through the hallway directly above where the Apple was being kept. He felt physically sick with shame…how could he have said those things to Darcy? How could he have over-reacted like that? Even under the influence of the Apple, how could he have turned his powers at manipulating and verbally wounding people against her with such fury? He regretted every word of it now; even the things that he meant, the reason he was holding back—he had said them entirely the wrong way. He had said them like a threat, as if he relished the idea of what his strength could do to her.

He rose to his feet and was out the door before he had finished putting his shirt on. He could fasten his armor on the way; he needed to see Darcy immediately. He had to set this right.

* * *

><p>The time saved by dressing en route proved meaningless, as Loki ended up waiting outside Darcy's door for several minutes before he managed to pluck up the courage to knock. For once, he was at a loss for words: what could he possibly say to the woman he loved after hurting her so thoroughly?<p>

Finally, he decided on a straightforward approach. No flowers, no frills, no excuses...just pleading for forgiveness, offering an eternity of servitude or his soul to make it up to her, possibly even—he couldn't believe he was considering this—_begging_.

He had never stooped so low in seeking forgiveness. Then again, the things he had said to her were just abusive. He had never stooped so low in being hurtful. Well…attempted genocide was pretty close. But he hadn't had to resort to begging in that instance, Thor being the way he was.

He sighed and knocked lightly on Darcy's door. "Darcy," he said softly, "are you in there?"

There was no response.

Loki cleared his throat. He had been expecting she might do this.

"Darcy, it's me. Please, I just want to talk to you. I need to talk to you."

No reply.

"Please, don't do this. Don't ignore me. If…if you can't forgive me, I understand. I can't even begin to forgive myself. Please, I just want to talk to you. I don't expect you to forgive me. I don't even expect you to understand. There is nothing to understand. The way I acted, the things I said, they were…unjustifiable. But please, hear me: even if you can't bring yourself to forgive me, at least try to understand how sorry I am. I need you to know that I regret everything I did and said last night."

"Why are you talking to a door?"

Loki froze. He glanced over his shoulder to see Sif standing a few feet away with her arms crossed, raising an eyebrow at him disparagingly.

"I…" He cleared his throat awkwardly. "I take it that Darcy isn't in her room, then?"

Sif tossed her ponytail over her shoulder. "No. Jane was asking around for her earlier, something about going out running. She wasn't in there." She sighed. "Based on the heartfelt gushiness you were just bestowing on her _door_, I'm guessing you two had a fight and that she's avoiding you." She narrowed her eyes. "You didn't cut off _her_ hair, did you?"

"No," Loki replied grimly. "I'm afraid it's quite a bit worse than that." Sif gave him a questioning look. "I said things that I shouldn't have said. I…I yelled." He grimaced. "I believe this is the part where you punch me in the nose for being such a fool."

"Usually it is. I don't know if I can bring myself to do it, though. You just look so damn pathetic talking to that door."

Loki tried to muster a weak smile; it came out looking contorted.

Sif rolled her eyes. "Check the Great Hall. I didn't see her when I was eating breakfast; maybe she came back from running with Jane. She'd probably be eating right about now."

Loki nodded. Sif stared at him, taking in his pathetic appearance for a long moment before she left, shaking her head.

A few seconds later, Loki went off down the other end of the hall. He sincerely hoped that he could persuade Darcy to leave the Great Hall and talk to him privately—he would prefer that his apology be without an audience, for Darcy to hear and act upon alone, without the expectations of others forcing her to go against her will.

* * *

><p>It turned out that the question of an audience was a bit of a moot point, because when Loki arrived at the Great Hall, he found Jane eating her breakfast alone. She said that she had not been able to find Darcy; she had gone out running alone.<p>

Loki began to worry as the hours went on with no sign of her around. Everyone else in the palace seemed to have ideas about where she might be, but whenever he went to check, someone else was waiting there with a new suggestion for where he might find Darcy. He knew, even as he made his way from the stables to the library of Midgardian Literature to the Arcane Library to the training fields, that she was in all likelihood avoiding him. She might have even recruited some of the others in the castle to detour Loki from her true location with ruses if she really wanted to be alone. But still...he was astonished when he finally arrived back at the Great Hall for dinner, weary and on edge from searching all day and deferring the apologies that he desperately wanted to tell Darcy, only to find that she was still absent, and that nobody else had spoken to her all day.

He ate his supper alone, despite the prodding of Fandral and Thor to join their betting upon whether or not Volstagg could eat an entire caribou in one sitting. After several moments of conversation that consisted of witty jabs and cheerful invitations on one side and monotone, one-word replies from the other, Hogun seemed to catch on that Loki was not interested in speaking, and diverted the others' attention to the rumors that the Norns' latest cavern retreat hinted at a forthcoming prophecy. Only Jane abstained from the heated debate that ensued. She inched towards Loki's side of the table as if she intended to speak to him. He shook his head slightly. She didn't look happy about it, but she sighed and returned to her seat without comment, glancing only occasionally at his side of the table to see if he was still brooding.

Loki was just about to abandon the Great Hall to continue his search for Darcy—it wasn't as if he felt much like eating anyway—when he heard a small popping noise from the entrance of the hall. He looked up immediately to see Hermes, looking noticeably worse-for-the-wear after his encounter with the fey.

Odin stood immediately in greeting, followed seconds later by Thor as the latter realized what was going on. "Hermes," Odin said formally, "we are glad to see you back in Asgard alive and well."

Hermes looked like he was repressing the urge to roll his eyes with great difficulty. He grumbled something under his breath that Loki suspected had something to do with his supposed "wellness," and probably something less-than-friendly about the fair folk. "I am returned," he finally said aloud, "and I come requesting the return of what belongs to Olympus, in light of the fact that our thief has shown themselves to be interested in a different artifact than the one you were charged with protecting."

"Of course," Odin said, bobbing his head politely. "Thor," he said, "please fetch the Apple of Discord."

"Forgive me, father, but is that safe?" He turned to Loki. "Will your enchantments permit me to retrieve the Apple?"

Loki nodded. "I created the enchantment so that you, the All-Father, Frigga, Jane, and I could all access the Apple without hindrance."

Thor smiled. "I will bring it here, father." And he left the room.

After a few seconds, the conversation in the room returned to its normal levels, and apart from the Olympian god sitting in an extra chair at Odin's table, the meal went on as usual. Loki prodded a piece of salad sitting on his plate listlessly. The leaves shriveled and turned black. He sighed.

Suddenly, thundering footsteps echoed throughout the hall. Loki spun around to see what the commotion was, his heart dropping. _Are we under attack?_

Thor staggered into the room, his face pale and his eyes wide. "It's gone," he said loudly.

Hermes stood up immediately. "What are you talking about?" he said sharply. "What's gone?"

"T-the Apple," Thor said, shaking. "It's vanished."

Hermes growled low in his throat. "Things don't just vanish. They can be misplaced, taken, hidden, or borrowed, but they do not simply vanish." He pressed his lips into a thin, serious line. "It appears that our thief is cleverer, more ambitious than we thought. It wasn't just the girdle they wanted. Someone has stolen the Apple of Discord."


	7. Chapter Seven

**AN: Here it is. Also, on an unrelated note, I must inform you all that this story will be almost entirely focused upon Darcy and Loki as the main characters. However, I do have a third story brewing in my mind that concerns Jane, Thor, and (to a lesser extent) Erik, bringing them further into the spotlight of the plotline.**

**One little thing to keep in mind: Loki's doppelganger might be kind of a jerk, but it's a jerk that is bound by its nature to obey Loki's orders. It couldn't steal the Apple because to do so would be to violate its duty. Good theory, though. It would certainly fit its (his?) personality. **

**Soundtrack: "The Immolation Scene," "Padme's Funeral," and a random little leitmotif I wrote ages ago that I should probably post on YouTube sometime because I like it a lot. (I'll post it eventually—I'll link to it when I do).**

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER SEVEN<strong>

The room erupted into chaos.

"We will find this thief and strike them where they stand!"

"_Gone?_ How could it be gone?"

Odin held up his hands in a gesture of silence. After several seconds of delayed murmuring, the room quieted. He turned to Hermes. "As king of Asgard, I offer you and your people my most sincere, humble apologies. My people and I will do everything in our power to apprehend this thief and return to you what is rightfully yours." He turned to survey the room at large. "Our first course of action must be to determine the identity of the thief."

Loki's heart hammered against his chest. He couldn't think. He couldn't feel anything. His mind was numb. It couldn't be…It _couldn't_. She couldn't have done such a thing. It was impossible. It couldn't be true. And yet, he knew deep down that it had to be. The pieces fit together perfectly. Darcy had vanished, and so had the Apple. He had worded his instructions so that she could access the Apple without needing to perform any magic. His stomach twisted. It couldn't be true. It couldn't. He wouldn't believe it.

He raced from the room wordlessly. He had to know the truth.

* * *

><p>The doppelganger didn't look up as Loki entered the chamber where the Apple had once been. It traced a lazy finger across the dais.<p>

"You want to know who took the Apple," it said smoothly.

Loki swallowed hard, a muscle in his jaw working frantically.

"You let somebody take it," he said, trying in vain to keep his voice from shaking. "Who was it?" He stared at the doppelganger as it turned around to survey him with detached amusement in its eyes.

"I think you already know the answer."

Something inside Loki snapped. He surged forward and grabbed the doppelganger by the collar, every tendon, every muscle in his body standing up in fury. "TELL ME!" he screamed. His voice broke, choking with suppressed sobs. "I have to know for certain! Say it! Say her name!"

"Darcy," the doppelganger spat.

Loki let go of the doppelganger. He felt cold. His entire body was numb. It was so cold. He shivered and collapsed on the dais, barely able to lean upon it for support. He couldn't think. He couldn't understand what had happened. He didn't even care when he began to sob silently, didn't care that the doppelganger was watching him. This was worse than learning of his jotun blood. This was worse than any pain he had ever felt in his life. He felt as though something were ripping apart in his chest.

It was several minutes before he managed to stop weeping. He shivered violently. His legs shook as he pushed himself to his feet, his mind still spinning.

"She was part-fey, you know."

Loki glanced over his shoulder wearily. Hermes stood at the doorway, looking solemn.

"Yesterday, when Titania saw Dar—_her_ eyes, she said the name 'Nick.' She had a mortal lover by that name, in the Midgardian Elizabethan Era." Loki blinked slowly. He stared at Hermes, his mind still struggling to process what was happening. He knew distantly that something about what Hermes had just said was very strange. "Over four hundred years ago."

Loki laughed hollowly. "What are you suggesting? That she is four hundred years old?" Hermes looked back at him without any change in expression. Loki's stomach dropped. "No," he said quietly. "She's twenty-three. She told me. She…" He closed his eyes, gritted his teeth. He could say her name. He wasn't so weak as to be unable to do that. "_Darcy_," he said with some effort, "and I had a fight shortly before her theft and flight. I'm sure she just…got angry with me. I expect this is her idea of getting back at me." He sighed. "I certainly deserve it after the things I said to her." He shook his head furiously. "She couldn't be Titania's daughter. Lots of people have blue eyes. They were probably just the same color by coincidence."

"Oh really? From what I witnessed yesterday, Lady Darcy has quite a knack for magic. Particularly nature magic. How do you account for that?"

Loki stayed silent.

"Loki," Hermes said quietly, placing a hand on his shoulder, "my friend, look at the facts. Within a short time of Darcy's arrival upon Asgard, someone tried to steal something from Olympus. Someone proceeded to steal the girdle of Aphrodite. Now the Apple of Discord has been stolen, and Darcy has vanished with it." Loki shook Hermes' hand from his shoulder, glaring at him.

Hermes stood up straight, his voice turning from understanding and compassionate to stern in the blink of an eye. "A mortal once said that the simplest hypothesis is often the most likely. This _is_ the simplest hypothesis: _Darcy_ stole both artifacts. She broke into Olympus using her magical powers stemming from her fairy blood, but fled before we could unmask her identity. She was able to sneak into the fairy world because of her heritage, and there she stole the girdle. And then she stole the Apple of Discord using some loophole in your enchantments that permitted her access to the Apple."

"There's only one problem with that theory," Loki said tersely. "Darcy grows exceptionally weak when she performs too much magic at once, sometimes to the point of blacking out."

"Does she?" Hermes said. He gave Loki a significant look.

Loki's face turned icy cold, and completely still. "No," he said, his voice rising. "No, there has to be another explanation. What you're suggesting...It's…it's diabolical!" He gestured wildly. "It's positively Machiavellian. It's the sort of thing that _I_ would do, not _her_!"

"But if what I am thinking is true, then the woman you know to be Darcy is a fiction. A persona, a figment used by her to obtain access to what she wanted to put her scheme into action." Hermes stepped closer to Loki and lowered his voice. "It was all an act. The mortality…the passing out when she used 'too much magic—'"

"Her feelings for me."

Hermes looked at Loki, his eyes aching with what seemed to be true sorrow. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "It's the most logical explanation." He put on his winged cap. "I must speak with Odin. We must act quickly if we are to catch her and return the artifacts to their rightful owners."

Loki didn't react as Hermes left the room. He stared blankly at the place where the Apple had once sat, his mind ablaze with unintelligible thought and instinct. Where he had been cold and numb moments before, he was on fire. He came to life with a vengeance, his frozen muscles tensing and rippling in mindless synchronization. His eyes burned.

It was all an act.

None of it was true.

Everything he had loved was a lie.

She was a lie.

His lips trembled as he surrendered to the ferocity that roiled within his mind; he let out a bellowing cry of anguish, a wavering scream that made the walls shake and his eyes burn. He broke off the cry with a wave of his hand, growling unconsciously as he threw his arms about, shattering and burning and freezing in the wake of each stroke. He heard the walls crack and threaten to shatter, he felt the inferno that blazed from his fingers and scorched everything it touched, he felt the ground beneath him practically snapping at the air as it turned to ice, and he fed upon them. Each blow of destruction fueled the next, his uncontrollable fury feeding upon itself and growing stronger until it exploded in a great shockwave that left cracks radiating in the ground from where Loki stood.

It was a lie.

It was all a lie.

And he had believed her.

He had loved the lie.

He had loved her.

And she betrayed him.

* * *

><p>Darcy had long since given up fighting the tears that streamed down her face and left hard, salty tracks as they dried. She lay upon the ground helplessly like a rag doll, hoping against hope that if she just held still, the pain would stop.<p>

It didn't.

She screamed as another wave of agony made her shudder and writhe uncontrollably, arching her back against the invisible chains that bound her to the floor.

"It hurts doesn't it?"

Darcy whimpered as the voice came closer and grabbed a fistful of her hair viciously.

"Well, then," the voice hissed, "maybe you can begin to understand how much it hurts to live the way I have, looking on as the man I love moons over another."

"That's enough, Sigyn."

A new voice. Darcy turned to rubber with relief. Someone was here to help her, finally.

The voice was accompanied by the soft click of heels against the icy stone floor. "We wouldn't want to kill the poor thing. And besides," the voice crooned, "she's been so helpful to us, hasn't she, Sigyn?"

Sigyn muttered something under her breath that sounded like dissent.

Darcy opened her eyes a crack just in time to see the second woman, a tall, statuesque blond, shoot a blue-white bolt at Sigyn. The latter yelped in pain. The blond woman laughed, and turned to Darcy.

She frantically closed her eyes. They couldn't know she was conscious.

The blond woman laughed again. "Oh, darling, I'm not foolish. I know you're alive." Darcy felt sharp, manicured nails grasping her chin. "Come, look at me. I want to see your face properly. Get a feel for your character."

Reluctantly, Darcy let her eyelids open up a crack. She found herself looking directly into a pair of gold eyes. Not brownish-gold—pure, metallic, shimmering gold that hovered somewhere between the shade of the precious metal and the reddish light of sunset. She stared at them vacantly; they were somewhat hypnotic, and she was glad to have something, anything, to detract from the pain.

"Hm," the woman murmured. "Interesting. We have ourselves a little 'pure of heart' here." Her smile darkened. "Pity I have no time for purity."

Everything went black.


	8. Chapter Eight

**AN: It's official; I'm writing another sequel. It will be a longer sequel, more on par with "Mendacity" than this one in terms of length, and leaving the more mystery-angsty tone of this story behind in favor of the first tale's more fantasy epic plotline. Jane and Thor will come into play a little more than they have in this story and we may very well reunite with Erik. I can also say that it will be, in large part, a story about Loki and Darcy's relationship, but I'm not saying what that relationship will be for fear of giving away the end of the current story. What will it be about? Astute readers will know that I tend to weave in threads, hints of what is to come in passing comments, in seemingly irrelevant plot elements and pick them up later. I will reveal the title of the next story when I finish this one. Thank you for reading, and your reviews are always appreciated! **

**Soundtrack for last segment of this chapter: "Old Souls" "One Simple Idea" "Radical Notion" (Yeah, I'm on a bit of an Inception bent with the music. I think it might have something to do with the fact that a certain villainous character that will come up in this chapter was almost exactly like Mal when I envisioned her in my head.) **

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

Loki didn't react when Thor's shadow crossed the threshold into his room. He simply stared straight ahead, his mind utterly blank as he let the magic flow through his veins: fixing, moving, cleaning his room, trying in vain to erase the intangible traces of _her _presence from the space.

"Loki," Thor began awkwardly.

"If it's conversation you're interested in, I think you'd best find somebody else to speak with."

Thor hesitated; he had been expecting this, but he still hadn't thought of a way to work around his brothers' unwillingness to talk. "I merely came here to inform you that the others are gathering in the library to discuss the…the matter of the apple." He swallowed. "The All-Father wishes for you to know that you are welcome to join us."

"Give him my gratitude for his generosity," Loki said flatly, "but I don't think that would be wise."

Thor rubbed the back of his neck agitatedly. "Loki, we _need_ you. You're the voice of reason."

"Actually, I'm not." He turned to look at his brother. Thor was startled by the steely, detached look in his eyes. "That title belongs to Jane," Loki said bitterly. "I'm just the god of trickery. And a very poor one at that, to be fooled by a pair of big, blue eyes." He returned his gaze to the wall in front of him with renewed vigor, as though he were trying to burn a hole in the stone with his eyes. "If you'll excuse me, I have something I need to take care of."

Thor stood there a moment longer, struggling for the right words to say to get Loki to speak. But he never was a wordsmith like his brother had been—or like Jane was, for that matter.

* * *

><p>"What we must first determine," Odin began, "is the identity of our thief."<p>

"Lady Darcy."

"We don't know that for sure." Everyone in the room turned to look at Jane. She stared straight back, her brows furrowed in an expression somewhere between annoyed and concerned.

Hermes grimaced and surveyed Jane with a slightly condescending look. "I'm afraid you are mistaken, princess," he said stiffly. "Thanks to Prince Loki's protective enchantments, I can say with absolute certainty that Lady Darcy stole the Apple of Discord."

"You mean she _took_ it," Jane corrected sharply. "You don't know _why_ she took it, or if she was even alone. Maybe there's something else going on. Maybe Darcy was forced to take the Apple by somebody else."

"And what would be the point of that?" Hermes asked, his voice laced heavily with skepticism. "Our thief has already demonstrated their skill at magic. Why would such a powerful sorcerer bother using another to steal the apple when they could just destroy the protective enchantments?"

"Psychological impact." Jane shrugged. "Maybe the thief knew about Loki and Darcy's relationship and wanted to destroy Asgard from within by creating distrust."

"Lady Jane," Hermes said impatiently, "gods and goddesses are not _celebrities_. We do not have our love lives published in newspapers for the entire world to see. Until I came to Asgard in person, I did not even know that Lady Darcy existed, much less that she was romantically involved with Loki. There is no way that anyone outside of Asgard could possibly know that information without spies or insiders providing them intelligence. What you're suggesting would require a level of intricate conspiracy that defies all probability."

"Anyone _outside_ of Asgard."

A murmur shot through the room. Even Thor was now looking at Jane with a slightly wary eye.

"Jane," he said quietly, "do you realize what it is you're saying?"

She glared at him defiantly. "Do you all realize what _you're_ saying?" she retorted. Thor looked down at the ground sheepishly. "Darcy isn't a thief," Jane said, "and she isn't a conspirator. What motive could she possibly have for stealing the Apple of Discord? Or the Girdle? _Why _would she do such a thing?"

"Oh, I can think of a few things." Hermes crossed his arms and looked at Jane seriously. "The first is easy: she was angry at Loki. What better revenge than to break his heart into a million pieces, by revealing her true nature? And as to the second…" He gave Jane a significant look. "Well, I don't know them as well as you do, but could it not be the case that Darcy, craving affection or perhaps doubting Loki's physical attraction to her, thought she needed a little extra help? Did she ever express such doubts?"

Jane opened her mouth, and then caught herself. She paled.

Hermes smirked. "I thought so."

Jane's eyes blazed. "Alright, so she has a motive," she snapped, "and I'll pretend to buy your nonsense story about her being a fairy for the sake of argument. But where I come from, people are assumed innocent until proven guilty."

"You are going in circles," Hermes said exasperatedly. "We _have_ proven her guilty. Loki's doppelganger—"

"You've proven that she took the Apple, but you still haven't _proven_ that she was the one who planned the theft, or that she _wanted_ to steal it. There are other possibilities that we have to consider. What if someone else _was _responsible? What if they used her to create turmoil inside Asgard, or because they didn't want their identity to be revealed?"

"_Alright!_" Hermes sighed, and closed his eyes wearily. "Alright," he said again, "I have not proven beyond a doubt that Darcy was the one _responsible_ for the theft. But we will never have proof unless we begin to investigate the possibilities presented to us." He turned to the room at large. "In light of the circumstantial evidence against Lady Darcy, I believe the search for the Girdle and the Apple should begin with her."

"I concur," Odin said gravely. Jane began to protest, but he held a hand up to silence her. "Princess Jane, I understand your concerns. We are not passing judgment upon Lady Darcy. We are merely pursuing her with the intent to discern what truly happened. If she is innocent, then no harm shall come of our search. Lord Hermes, may I suggest that you—since I am told Loki is uninterested in assisting with this matter—employ some means of divination to find out where Lady Darcy is?"

"Of course," Hermes said. "If you have a spare room, I can begin scrying within the hour. It won't be perfect, but I should be able to get a vague notion of her location."

"Thank you," Odin said. "That would be most helpful." Hermes nodded and left the room.

"Sir, with your permission, I would like to see him scrying. I'm a little worried—"

"You fear that he will distort the facts, willfully or not, in such a way that will paint your friend in an unfairly negative light?" Jane nodded fervently. "Go with him. See what he sees." Jane bowed and made to leave the room. "Jane," Odin called after her. She stopped to listen. "Please try to sympathize with him," he said mildly. "Hermes has his reasons for being jaded, particularly with matters of the heart. He has witnessed too many betrayals, too much heartbreak between lovers in his line of duty as companion to the dead to be optimistic."

"I will try, All-Father," she replied, and she turned to leave, almost bumping into someone coming through the door in the process: a young woman with sprite-like features and a strange crop of short, opalescent hair that shifted colors in the light. "Excuse me," Jane said, glancing curiously at the woman's hair as she slid past her.

The rainbow-haired woman gave a slight, twitchy smile in response before scurrying into the room. "Sir," she said quickly.

Odin's eye widened in surprise. "Lady Iris," he said, "what brings you to Asgard?"

"Nothing good, I'm afraid. Is Hermes here? I have a message I must convey to him; it's urgent."

"He left moments ago," Odin replied. "He is busy at the moment." Iris visibly deflated. "What is the matter you come to tell him of? Is it anything that we might be able to assist you in?"

"It might. Do you happen to know if Hermes journeyed to Hades' realm earlier, a few hours ago?"

"I can't imagine he did. Lord Hermes has been in our company for near a day now on important business, and I don't believe he has left us in that time."

"Damn it," Iris hissed. Her pointed face flushed. "Pardon my language," she stammered. "But this is not good. This is very, very bad." She began gnawing upon her thumbnail nervously. "There is a soul missing from Hades' realm," she explained agitatedly. "We hoped that it was merely a mistake, that Hermes might have moved the person to one of the other realms of death temporarily, or borrowed him for some reason. But if he hasn't been to Hades in almost a day…"

"Another thief?" Thor suggested.

"Or the same one," Odin murmured, "putting into action a complex plan with multiple steps." He stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Of whose soul are we speaking?" he asked.

"It's Jason."

Thor's eyes widened. Odin froze, uncharacteristically at a loss for words.

"Jason?" Thor repeated. "The hero? But he died centuries ago. Who would want to resurrect him now?"

"Someone for whom centuries are irrelevant because their magic allows them to live forever. Someone whose years are measured _in relation_ to Jason. I'm afraid there's only one person powerful enough to break into Hades who would want to bring Jason back to life."

A cry of horror pierced the hallway and rang through the room. Jane hurried into the room with her eyes full of tears, closely followed by a figure in black who appeared from thin air in the doorway.

"Jane," Thor said, hastening forward to embrace her. She tried to speak, but her voice broke. He turned to the doorway, where Loki was smoothing out his clothing from the teleportation. "What's the matter?"

"Where is she?" Loki demanded, ignoring Thor's question. "I felt someone scrying downstairs and I latched on to the vision. She's being held somewhere. She's being tortured. Where is she?"

"We think Medea stole Jason's soul—"

Loki didn't stay to listen to the rest of Iris's explanation, instead turning on his heel to hurry from the room.

"Where are you going?" Thor called after him.

"Asia Minor." As he stepped through the doorway, he flickered and vanished into the air. Thor stared after him, bewildered, his reverie only broken when Hermes walked through the door.

"I was wrong," he said without preamble. "It appears, in this case, that the simplest explanation is not the correct one. We need to figure out what Medea's plan is, and quickly, before she hurts anyone else." He leaned on the table wearily. "I think we can be pretty certain, now, that Medea kidnapped Darcy and is holding her captive, and that she is behind the theft of the Girdle and the Apple, as well as the kidnap of Jason's soul. We need to know what her plan for these objects is. The best place to start would obviously be analyzing what she has already done and working from there. First question," he said, eyeing everyone in the room, "what's her motive?"

"Winning Jason back," Iris said promptly.

"Using the Apple—" said Jane in a shaky voice.

"Using the Girdle—" said Hermes at the same time. They stared at each other. Hermes grimaced. "The Girdle employs a very powerful attraction enchantment to compel anyone in proximity to the girdle-wearer to obey their will, usually in the form of being sexually attracted to the wearer. If Medea wore it, she could make Jason love her once more. Then again," he admitted, "we are speaking of Medea, and she tends to be more insidious, more subtle than that. Why the Apple?" he asked.

"The version of the story I heard in school said that Jason married another woman because he was offered power," she said quickly. "Medea could use the Apple to create chaos on earth and step in as a ruler in the wake of the chaos—that's usually how dictators come to power, not by conquering, by offering—"

"Stability in a time of chaos," Hermes finished. "So she brings Jason back once she's queen of the world, he marries her because she can offer him power, and they live happily ever after?"

"That's brilliant," Iris said.

"That doesn't make any sense," Thor said indignantly. "Why would you go to all that trouble when she could just wear the Girdle and make him love her?"

"Aphrodite's Girdle does not create love," Odin explained. "It creates, at most, infatuation or lust. No love spell—the Girdle, love-in-idleness, a potion—can truly recreate love; only obsession."

Hermes nodded. "Medea is a highly intelligent woman. She knows that Jason loves power, and she wants Jason to love her. QED, if she makes herself powerful, she can make Jason love her more than any spell or potion ever could. The only person who can create true love is Cupid, when he shoots his arrows, but they're useless on their own; they only have magical power when he is the one using them. And since he met Psyche…" Hermes shrugged. "Well, he would rather die than abuse the power that he has. He knows first-hand what it can do."

"Hold on," Iris interrupted. "Why does she need the Girdle, then? If she can win Jason's love with power, why steal the Girdle?"

"Maybe Oberon really did take it like Titania suggested," Jane said.

"No," Hermes said. "Oberon is one of the fey. He cannot tell an outright lie. He can mislead, obfuscate, bewilder, omit, and otherwise attempt to veil the truth, but he cannot say something that he knows to be untrue." He shook his head. "I know what tricks he uses to indirectly lie; I follow the same conditions for honesty that he does by personal choice, and I use his tricks myself just as he uses mine. But if he said outright that he did not take the Girdle, and that he had nothing to do with it being taken, then he didn't." He crossed his arms. "Perhaps Medea stole it as a ruse. Or maybe she used it to compel Darcy to steal the Apple."

"But if Medea is so powerful, why bother with Darcy?" Thor asked. "Why couldn't she just walk in, destroy the enchantments, and take the Apple herself?"

Jane's eyes widened. "Hold on," she said, turning to Hermes. "I thought you said that nobody outside of Asgard would know that Darcy and Loki were romantically involved, or that she even existed. How did Medea know about her?"

Hermes opened his mouth to respond, and then stopped. He turned pale. "I can only think of one explanation," he said finally. "Someone in Asgard is working with Medea. An informant."

Everyone at the room stared at each other; it was almost possible to see the gears turning in each person's mind.

"I shall gather the people," Odin said. "We must find out who this informant is."

"I'll warn SHIELD," Jane said hurriedly. "If Medea's going to create chaos on earth, we need to get people to safety. There are going to be wars starting down there."

"I'll tell the leaders of the other realms that have had human worshippers. They can help protect them."

"You take half," Iris said. "I'll tell the rest."

"Where does that leave me?" Thor asked.

Everyone hesitated for a moment; this was not a time for brute strength or combat. This was a time for precise defensive and tactical maneuvering. There was no physical enemy. The enemy was chaos.

Jane's eyes lit up. "Come with me," she said. "I think there are some people on earth who would really like to meet you."

* * *

><p>The blur of color and sound shattered abruptly. Loki barely had time to get into a defensive falling position before the portal sent him tumbling to the ground. He landed on his feet, but he was thrown to his knees by the force of the fall. He skidded several feet along the sandy ground before coming to a stop. He spat and made a disgruntled face; some of the sand had made it between his teeth.<p>

He stood up cautiously, looking all around as he rose. He was on a beach, with the sea shining bright blue for miles in one direction and dark green hills thick with shrubs and trees to the other.

_The Mediterranean. _

Medea must have placed spells around her home to keep people like Loki from materializing on the grounds. He would have to go the rest of the way on foot.

His heart skipped a beat as a horrible thought crossed his mind. What if he was too late? What if he got to Medea's palace, and Darcy was already dead or broken beyond recognition from the torment? If the former, then he would die with her. If the latter…

He waved a hand at a large, flat piece of driftwood. It rose from the ground and zoomed towards him, hovering a few inches above the ground. He stepped on top of it and immediately began flying through the air at a dizzying speed that reduced the world around him to nothing more than a vague impression of plants and rocky hills.

He had to get there in time.


	9. Chapter Nine

**AN: STOP! … Avenger-Time! (And, I suppose, hammer-time.) Sorry for the slight filler chapter—but I promise that there will be action in the next chapter. SO much action. More action than your body has room for. **

**CHAPTER NINE**

Jane hurried out of the elevator before the doors were fully opened, dragging Thor by the wrist behind her with some difficulty—he kept glancing around the concrete and steel walls, eying the gadgets and wires with intense curiosity.

"Thor, come on, you can mess with technology later."

He hesitated a moment before following her, turning on the spot to look at each of the retired weapons hanging on the wall. "How you mortals do it without magic," he muttered in awe.

"Is this him?"

Jane turned around abruptly with a sigh. She gave a demanding tug on Thor's arm. "Thor," she said pointedly. He finally stopped ogling the walls and turned to look at her. "This is Nick Fury, leader of SHIELD. They're the ones who, uh…who found the crash site after I did."

Thor bobbed his head by way of polite greeting. Fury returned the gesture solemnly. "Normally upon your arrival here," he said, "you would receive a formal introduction to SHIELD, a tour of the facilities, and an exchange of how do you do's, but under the circumstances I'm afraid we don't have time for such pleasantries. Have you come prepared to go into battle?"

Thor held up his hammer. "I am armed and ready to fight."

"Good. I shall give you your first assignment momentarily. Ms. Foster."

"Yes, sir."

"Given the gravity of the current situation, we require your assistance. Proceed immediately to conference room B on the second floor. There you will receive further instructions on your assignment."

Jane nodded and hurried back towards the elevator. Thor frowned at Fury.

"Surely, you do not intend to send her into combat?"

"Ms. Foster is a research scientist, a leader, and if Coulson is to be believed, one hell of a negotiator," he replied calmly. "Her assignment will be in keeping with her abilities. I doubt that her assignment will place her in any sort of physical danger." He clasped his hands behind his back. "Unlike yours."

"What exactly is my assignment?"

"To protect the people of Earth. To prevent any destruction that may result from this Medea's actions, before anyone gets hurt."

"Defend Midgard single-handedly?" Thor said. "Mr. Fury, I will not feign modesty: I am the strongest warrior there is on Asgard, but even _I _cannot defend an entire realm _alone_."

Fury raised an eyebrow with something bordering on amusement. "Who said that you would be working alone?" A clattering sound rang through the room. Fury turned to look at the elevator doors; Thor followed suit.

The doors slid open, revealing two men standing inside—at least, Thor assumed they were both men; one of them seemed to be made entirely of metal. The metal man stepped forward first. He pressed a button on his metal skin and the mask covering his face retreated, revealing that he was, in fact, human, with dark eyes and a brown mustache.

"I thought he was supposed to be a Viking," he said. "Where's his opera helmet?"

"Mr. Odinson," Fury said, ignoring the metal man's comment, "or should I say Thor; meet your new colleagues: Tony Stark and Steve Rogers, better known as Iron Man and Captain America."

"Hello." The former stepped out from behind the metal man and extended his hand with a smile to Thor. They shook hands. "Pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise," Thor replied amiably. He turned to the metal man and again held out his hand in what he assumed was a customary greeting.

"I haven't yet decided if it's a pleasure to meet you," Stark said matter-of-factly, ignoring the extended hand. "I shall inform you once I make up my mind."

Thor wasn't sure whether to take offense or to laugh. He smiled uncertainly at the metal man and struggled for a reply.

"I suggest that you make it up fast, Mr. Stark," Fury said coolly. "The three of you will have to work together efficiently and without conflict if you are to fight against what is to come." He looked at the three of them, although his eyes seemed to linger warningly upon Stark a little longer than the other two. "You are no longer Iron Man, Captain America, and Thor. You do not fight for your own ideals, or for personal glory, any longer. You are one unit that must work to defend humanity against destruction. You are the Avengers."

The building shook suddenly with a loud rumbling sound that seemed to come from the ground level over their heads. Fury looked up as a small stream of dust shook loose from the ceiling. "It is beginning," he said. "Go."

Loki peered into the distance as the driftwood board carried him across the landscape at an almost dizzying speed. There was no sign yet of Medea's home. His scowl deepened. He didn't have time for this game of hide-and-go-seek. He needed to find where Medea lived, and he needed to find out quickly, before it was too late.

He closed his eyes and attempted to reach out for some thread of magic in the air, some hint, some fingerprint that might tell him that a sorceress had recently performed magic. But he felt nothing. Medea had wiped away all traces of her presence…if she had ever even been in this place.

He yelled angrily—and then stopped cold, his voice breaking. He couldn't make a sound. Not because of fear, or frustration, or anger: he physically could not produce a sound. _No, that couldn't be right, _he thought. _I can feel my throat vibrating. I _am_ making sound. I just can't hear it. _

He stopped the driftwood board immediately and leapt off the edge of it, landing smoothly on his feet and fingertips a few yards away. He stood up, and began walking towards the nearest hillside. Sound couldn't just disappear. Something, or someone, had to be masking it.

He walked methodically around the base of the hill, searching for a sign of disturbance: a broken branch, a shrub that was out of place or unusual, a door…

_A door? _

A narrow door of black cast iron rested in a tiny crevasse of the hill, hidden from plain sight by a small shrub of yellow flowers that made a web across the doorway.

Loki dashed up the hill towards the door at a sprint. _Darcy, please, please, hold on. _He struggled with the tangled flowers for a moment in vain; their roots seemed as though they had been welded to the ground, the stems rubbery and refusing to break. His fingertips slipped from the door and lost their grip on the flowers. Letting out a silenced cry of frustration, he slammed his palm against the doorway.

The flowers turned brown and frosty. In the blink of an eye, the shrub turned to icy dust beneath his fingers. Relieved, he tried to pull the door open. He hissed sharply and pulled away. The door was icy cold, even to him; his hand turned faintly blue.

"Not now, not now," he muttered at the door, the sound dying the second it escaped his throat. "I don't have time for this." He scrabbled desperately with the edge of the metal, his fingers slipping on the frost that was forming faster than he could wipe it away. He needed to make the frost go away.

He laid his hand flat against the door and closed his eyes. Within seconds, the metal was heating up beneath his fingers, the frost sending steam shooting into his face as its moisture evaporated into the air. The iron door let out a faint groan. The sound dampening magic was dying with the protective gate. Finally, glowing red with the heat, the door gave way.

The silence shattered with a scream.

Darcy's scream.

His heart racing, Loki kicked aside the curled remains of the door and lunged towards the stairs that waited in the darkness below. _Hold on, love._

__**AN: More to come shortly. I actually wrote this over the weekend, but I couldn't publish it. I'm writing the next chapter right now-should be up within a few hours.  
><strong>


	10. Chapter Ten

**AN: One, Tony Stark is so much fun to write. Two, be prepared for some trope lampshading. (Does that count as breaking the fourth wall? I don't know…I mean, I think at some point superheroes would have to catch on to the fact that they all have some things in common and maybe acknowledge that fact…)**

**Three, I thought this was going to be the big, long chapter with most of the action, but then I realized it was **_**too**_** long of a chapter—I couldn't possibly write it in one sitting. **

**CHAPTER TEN**

"We need to find out where she's placed this Apple and retrieve it, take it somewhere safe," Rogers said as the three of them hurried through the labyrinthine hallways to exit the facility. "Somewhere without people."

"Good plan. I suggest Wyoming."

"Is that far?" Thor asked.

"He's joking," Rogers said quickly, before Stark could confuse Thor further. "Wyoming is in the United States, and more importantly, it's on Earth. We need to go farther. You can travel between planets, can't you?"

"With some assistance," he said. "I'm not a sorcerer, but my brother can open up portals between worlds."

"Would this be the mentally unstable, genocidal brother that attempted to destroy an entire planet and part of New Mexico, or is there another one I'm not aware of?"

Thor scowled at the metal man. He was beginning to get distinctly annoyed by his blasé, jesting attitude towards the world. "Loki's attempted crimes were no worse than mine," he said sharply. "The only difference is that he almost succeeded. He sacrificed his life to save Asgard. My father trusts him, and I trust him."

"Good enough for me," Rogers said mildly.

"Really?" said Stark. "He must be quite a sorcerer, to remain invisible while helping us save the world. Or is he even here?"

"He's busy. He had…other matters to attend to."

Stark snorted.

Rogers stared at Thor in blatant confusion. "What could he possibly be doing that's more important than saving the world?" His eyes widened. "Oh. Of course. He's—"

"Saving his girlfriend," they all said at once. Thor and Rogers turned to give Stark a strange look.

He grimaced. "Well, I wouldn't go putting my _life_ on the line for her or anything, but…"

Rogers grinned. "Yes, you would."

Thor fought the urge to laugh with some difficulty.

Stark looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully. He tilted his head, and then shrugged. "Oh, alright, I suppose I would, given the right circumstances." He scowled at the poorly-veiled expressions on the others' faces. "Don't look at me like that. It's not like you wouldn't do the same."

"We already have," Rogers said slowly. He gestured to his clothing and to the others. "Superheroes," he pointed out.

Stark rolled his eyes. "Yes, alright, you've made your point," he snapped, and he stormed down the hall before Rogers or Thor could comment. The two of them exchanged a look of understanding, and followed their comrade with scarcely-suppressed smiles.

* * *

><p>Loki slowed to a walk as he approached a lit corridor. He glanced at his feet every so often to ensure that the floor was clear; he couldn't afford to make any noise and alert whoever was inside to his presence.<p>

He stepped into the lighted hallway cautiously, turning on the spot to see if anyone had noticed him. Mercifully, the entire building had been empty so far, and so it remained. He frowned. Now that he considered the matter, it was somewhat odd. He had expected Medea to detect his presence the moment he entered her home…or, at least, if she was elsewhere, to leave her lair guarded. But he had practically strolled in; he had been expecting a fight for his life from a woman powerful enough to almost transcend mortality itself with her spells and elixirs. Then there was the matter of the silence.

He hadn't heard Darcy scream since he had broken through the seal of silence. His heart thudded unevenly. Perhaps she had been tortured into unconsciousness. Or perhaps she had become permanently mute, gone mad from agony.

He mentally flinched from the thought. He couldn't imagine Darcy broken like that, hopeful and inventive as she was. She would hold on. She would find a way to cling to her sanity or avert the pain, somehow. But even the strongest grasp could not hold on forever.

He closed his eyes. _I need to find her. Darcy, where are you?_

And then, almost imperceptibly, he felt something—a small, sharp slice of pain up his back and a gentle tug on his hand that he would recognize anywhere. He looked down instinctively only to find that his hand was very much alone, a solitary mass of stark white against the shadows that hid from the small light overhead. He stretched his fingers experimentally, wondering if, perhaps, his mind was merely playing tricks on him, making him feel as though Darcy's fingers were weaving between his own.

He started. There it was again, this time accompanied by a much firmer yank that caught him by surprise. He staggered forward as he fought to regain his balance silently. His palm caught the wall, and leaned upon it for support.

The wall gave way.

Stunned, Loki swayed on the spot and backed away from the wall, staring wide-eyed as the smooth metal dissolved before his very eyes, rippling and flowing like water until it finally became still in the shape of a round archway.

He surged forward as though he had been pushed, propelled by intuition. He had asked where Darcy was, and somehow, some way, she had answered him. He knew she was here.

He began to run through the hallway. For some inexplicable reason, his heart pounded and his fingers felt cold. He felt afraid, as though something terrible were about to happen to Darcy. He started sprinting. Horrible thoughts began flashing in his mind—Darcy writhing in pain, Darcy crumpled in a heap on the floor like a rag doll, Darcy staring at him coldly without recognition, Darcy staring without seeing.

_No, no, no, no, no…_

He rounded a corner, and there she was…alive, but her lips pressed together furiously as though she wanted desperately to say something but unable to open her mouth, her bright blue eyes round as saucers, staring at him. She shook her head furiously and made a faint squeaking sound that might have been a muffled scream.

A second too late, he turned to see the rest of the room.

Before he could react, he was overcome by an intense feeling of weight. His knees gave out as every cell in his body seemed to turn to lead. He gasped weakly, struggling to breathe. He pressed his palms to the ground in a fruitless attempt to support himself, to find some solid foundation to hold on to.

The weight left him abruptly.

"Hello, Loki."

He froze. He knew that voice…and yet, he didn't. He knew the low register, the hoarseness, but he didn't know the snideness, the sharp edge that laced the voice, the bitterness. He didn't know the hate.

Loki looked up at the speaker slowly; he couldn't understand what was happening. This couldn't be right…

And yet it was. There she stood, before him: the same pale, pointed face, the same noble nose, the same curtain of brown hair that came to a widow's peak at the crown of her head. But again, there was something different about her.

She was more beautiful than he had remembered, in an eerie, ethereal sort of way. She was almost too perfect, her skin too smooth to be real, her hair too elegantly windswept to possibly be natural. He noticed distantly that her figure, too, was off—she had been skinny before, but it had been a waif-like, almost girlish fragility. Her narrow waist now tapered inward from a broader, hourglass-shaped frame.

But the whole effect was lost on him. She didn't seem beautiful. The only thing Loki could see was the look in her eyes. They were cold and icy. Not like he remembered—he had kept them in his memory as green, almost like his own, but with a perpetually adoring expression that saw him like the sun. These eyes were strangers. They were steel. They were green icicles. They weren't windows to the soul; they were windows to nowhere.

"Sigyn," he said softly. He shook his head, his eyes stinging as he struggled to understand. "_Why?_"


	11. Chapter Eleven

**AN: For those of you that aren't familiar with Sigyn or Norse mythology, you might want to brush up specifically on the myths (or, really, just **_**myth**_**) concerning her. **

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

Sigyn replied with a laugh. Loki shuddered involuntarily; the sound seemed to race up and down his spine, tracing the base of his neck with the faint sharpness of fingernails brushing against skin. If the sound had been coming from anybody else, it would have been irresistible. But he found that the sounds assaulting his ears paled against the steely green eyes that stared back at him without compassion.

"Why?" she said, her laughter dying abruptly. "Isn't it obvious?" Loki couldn't reply. His throat seemed to have died; he opened his mouth and moved his lips, but he no sound came forth. Sigyn smirked. "No? Guess. Go on. Use that wonderful mind of yours. Guess why I did what I did, why I do what I do. Guess."

Loki remained silent, his mind buzzing. Sigyn's expression darkened. Her head tilted at an unnatural angle; the light fell across her face and created skeletal shadows beneath her eyes and cheekbones. "Maybe you didn't hear me," she said sweetly. Her eyes widened suddenly, her hand darting towards a fold in her cloak. "Remember _this_?"

She retrieved a small crystal vial full of something that looked like salt water. Loki felt all the blood leave his face as though he had just stepped out into the cold. He _knew_ that vial. He reached out without thinking to stop her hand, but his hand came a second too late. Sigyn unstopped the vial and tipped a single drop of the liquid onto Darcy's bare shoulder.

Her back arched violently, but she didn't make a sound. She pressed her eyelids and lips together, trying in vain to suppress the expression of agony that longed to break forth. A small stream of tears spilled past her eyelashes in spite of her efforts—but she managed to remain silent.

Loki let out a garbled, incoherent sound of protest as he staggered forward on his knees to wipe the venom off Darcy's skin, and then gasped as he felt his arm come into contact with something solid. He pounded his hand against the air, bewildered, and desperate to get through whatever invisible wall had formed between himself and Darcy. He stared openly at Sigyn and swallowed heavily. She didn't know magic…how could she restrain them or keep them apart invisibly?

Sigyn righted the vial. Her satisfied leer dissolved into a snarl, her eyes narrow and piercing. "I said," she hissed, "_guess_."

Loki finally found his voice. "You were jealous," he said automatically. He licked his lips nervously; he had to keep talking, keep her occupied. "Y-you resented the fact that I loved—love—someone else." He glanced at Darcy out of the corner of his eye. She was sitting up again, and looking at him. His heart beat a little faster, hopeful for the briefest moment. She didn't look broken, or defeated. She looked like a beautiful woman with tear-streaked cheeks and too-red lips and eyes that still looked at him as if she loved him back.

Sigyn took in the lovers' silent exchange narrowly. "I'm disappointed in you," she said in a low voice. "You were always so perceptive." Loki saw the action coming a split second before her hand moved. She tipped the vial again, this time letting two drops spill out and onto Darcy's arm.

Loki surged forward blindly against the invisible wall separating them, every trace of coherent thought vanishing from his mind. Darcy shook her head slightly at him through her pain, peering back at him soundlessly. Their eyes met; she shook her head again, imploring him wordlessly to let it go. He reluctantly slid back from the wall, returning his gaze to Sigyn with fury in his gaze.

His fury seemed to incense her further. "See how she blinds you?" she cried, her voice rising in pitch. "You can't even think straight when she's around, you cannot realize that what I feel goes deeper than jealousy. She weakens you. She has made you mindless, a drone. You deserve better." This time, Loki saw the signs a moment before Sigyn so much as moved towards Darcy. He lunged for her viciously, springing to his feet with his hands outstretched as if to choke her. She held up a hand calmly. "Ah—ah—" she said, smiling and wagging a finger at him. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Loki breathed heavily as he stared at her, considering his options. He wanted to kill her. Damn chivalry, damn his upbringing. He wanted to hurt her and make her sorry that she had ever laid eyes upon him or upon Darcy. But something forced him to hold back. He sat down mechanically, still seething and glaring at Sigyn hatefully. "Smart move," she said. "Not that you had much choice." She pushed aside the folds of her dress that draped around her waist. Loki glimpsed the motion in his peripheral vision, his eyes darting to it instinctively. He caught himself, realized what she was trying to do—he turned back to stare at her waist, double-taking in disbelief.

There, wrapped around her waist, snaking back under the fabric of her dress where she didn't part the cloth, was the girdle of Aphrodite, shining bright gold with nearly invisible threads of ore and fragments of precious stones.

He raised his eyes to Sigyn's face, torn between wonder and fury. "You made a deal with her, didn't you?" he demanded, his mind racing as everything began to fall into place—the double theft, her ability to compel Darcy to steal the apple, her ability to bind them both and force them to remain prisoners. Sigyn turned her face away, walking across the room coyly. "You offered her information about how to get the apple in exchange for the girdle."

She spun on her heel, her eyes gleaming. "Oh, bravo!" she sneered. "Now the gears are turning." She tossed her hair angrily. "Yes. I helped her. I had to act. I couldn't just-just sit there and watch you waste your life on a stupid, silly mortal. When I heard that there had been a break-in at Olympus, I immediately sought out those who I thought might have done it. I found Medea here, in her home. She was...gracious. You see, we had similar interests. She wanted Jason, and I needed _you_." She walked towards Loki slowly, deliberately swaying her hips with every calculated step. He looked away from her; he didn't want to see this. He wasn't interested in her attempts at seduction. His eyes settled on Darcy. She felt his stare on her face and raised her eyes to meet his. They locked gazes as Sigyn continued her explanation, carrying on their own silent conversation with their eyes.

She seemed too lost in her story to notice them. "So I told her what she needed to know about you, about your ridiculous weakness for _her_ in exchange for what I needed to finally win you over. And I _will_ win you over." She snapped from her reverie suddenly, and spotted the lovers looking at each other. She surged forward with a snarl and grasped Loki's chin firmly, her nails digging in to his jaw as she forced him to turn towards her. "Look at me," she snarled. I want you to look at me when I speak to you. I want you to look at me when I don't. I want you to look at me forever and never look at her again."

Loki stared at her defiantly for a moment, then fell slack. He had to play along. Let her win…anything to make her stop hurting Darcy. He let his face smooth and relax in her grip. After several seconds to ensure his surrender, Sigyn released her hold upon him. She looked down at him almost tenderly, her nails tracing delicate lines up his jawline instead of digging into his skin. Loki's stomach turned. Without thinking, his eyes darted to Darcy.

Sigyn let out a furious scream. Loki made to stop her, his heart pounding, but he was stopped again by the wall. He looked on helplessly as Sigyn tipped the bottle and let the venom rain down on Darcy's head for a few seconds.

"Please, stop this," Loki burst out, his voice breaking. "What do you hope to achieve by hurting her?" To his immense relief, Sigyn righted the bottle. She turned to study him slowly.

"I don't _hope_ to achieve anything," she said in a hollow voice. "I _will_ have what I want: you." She let out a mad, humorless laugh that verged on crying. She gestured wildly at the girdle. "The magic is already working, but it's not enough. I was a fool not to realize it sooner. You wouldn't fall just for a pretty face," she said with an ugly expression, "for a fawning gaze. You have better taste than that. You don't love her _face_!" Sigyn's voice rose to a vicious growl and her foot shot out, kicking Darcy in the ribs. Loki flinched. Sigyn turned back to face him, panting slightly, her hair mussed and falling in her face. "You love _her_. You love her mind." She shoved Darcy with the heel of her boot. Loki started to protest, but swallowed the words; he couldn't risk angering her further. Instead, he tried his best to look docile and innocent as Sigyn stooped over to speak to him, her lips inches from his nose. "When I'm finished," she said, so close that he could feel her breath on his face, "there won't be anything left to love of her. She will be gone, and you will have nothing to fight for." She made another strange noise halfway between a sarcastic laugh and a sob. "Maybe then you'll look at _me_. Maybe then you'll give _me_ a chance."

"Sigyn…" His lips suddenly felt very dry. "I'm sorry."

Her half-chuckle disintegrated into full-blown laughter. She cackled feverishly. "You're not sorry," she said, her mirth quickly fading. "If you were sorry, you'd be pleading me for forgiveness. If you were sorry, you wouldn't even look at her, because she wouldn't matter. If you were sorry, you would love me! You're not sorry." She rose to her full height. "Not yet."

She turned on her heel and strode towards Darcy. Loki's stomach dropped as he realized what she was going to do.

"Please..." he whispered.

She shook her head. "No," she replied. Loki blanched as she opened the bottle once more. "The time for pleas has passed," she said, holding her arm out so the bottle was directly above Darcy. "Where was your apology when you laughed at the notes I wrote you as a child, when you thought I had left?" She tipped the bottle. Darcy winced, but didn't make a sound as several drops of venom spilled down upon her head, leaving tracks of what Loki knew must have felt like fire in her hair. "Where was your apology when you told me you had other plans," her voice rose agitatedly, "only to show up at the feast _alone_?" Loki swallowed hard against the lump in his throat as Sigyn poured more venom on Darcy, enough to create tiny rivulets of liquid that streamed down her cheeks past her tears. "I never once pleaded with you for anything, and if I had, you wouldn't have listened. Nobody ever listened. I didn't exist. I was invisible!"

Darcy let out a tiny whimper as the accumulation of venom became too much for her, searing at her skin with a pain that Loki refused to let himself remember, even in his darkest hours. He had no choice now. He closed his eyes involuntarily as the memories flooded back to him.

Sigyn smirked. "Now do you hear the pleas I never said aloud?" she breathed. Her face curled into a snarl. "Now do you see me?" she screamed. "Do you?"

"Yes!" he roared.

"No, you don't. You're just playing along with me because you don't want me to hurt her. Aren't you?" Loki glowered at his hands but didn't reply. Sigyn laughed softly, so quiet as to almost be a breath. "I know your games. I've watched you play them for so long. Now it's my turn. My game. My rules. And it starts now." Time seemed suspended, to scarcely move at all as Loki watched her hand begin to tip the vial.

"Wait..." he burst out. Sigyn didn't react. He raised his voice. "If you kill her, I'll die too."

Sigyn froze. "You're lying."

"No, I'm not. Do you remember when I died?"

Some expression flickered across her face faster than Loki could study it. "Of course I do," she said. Her voice seemed oddly hollow as she spoke. She swallowed. "It's all I can see when I close my eyes."

"She brought me back with a spell. A spell that I originally performed in order to regain my immortality: the Thrice Blood spell. It bound us together to the point of inseparability. She is what ties me to life. If she dies, I die."

Sigyn's face seemed to be dancing, courting different facial expressions and trying each of them on in turn. First shock, then confusion, then sadness, then nothingness, and finally fury.

"You are lying to me!" she bellowed. "If your life is so dependent upon hers, why haven't you made her immortal yet? Why haven't you married her?"

"Because she didn't want to." He glanced at Darcy. She stared back at him, her eyes seeming unnaturally blue against her red, teary lids. It made his chest ache. "Not yet, anyway. It was my hope that we would. Someday."

"Was it?" Loki turned to look at Darcy, hoping to meet her eyes again. But she wouldn't look at him, wouldn't look up. Her eyes were screwed up, her face turned away from the center of the room as she fought against the venom. He turned to look at Sigyn—and he saw the look on her face. His heart sank. "Then it looks like today is your lucky day," she said coldly. "Because you two are going to get married."

Loki felt as though his skin had turned to ice. He stared at Sigyn with eyes like saucers. "What?"

Sigyn pouted her lips and put on a falsely high-pitched voice. "_What_?" She laughed softly, a quiet chuckle that caught in her throat and became a whimper. "I love you," she said. "I can't let you die. I want to be with you, together forever. Marry her. I don't care. It's just a formality. I want you to. Make her immortal, so that you can be immortal. So we can be immortal...together."

Loki shook his head. "Sigyn," he said slowly, trying to be diplomatic, "_we_ will _never_ be together."

"Yes we will." She reached out to trace her fingernails against his jawline with what he assumed was her attempt at tenderness. He flinched away instinctively. "Stop fighting me," she crooned, her other hand finding its way to his hair, brushing it away from his forehead. "Give in. Think of how happy we could be together. Think of what we could do. We don't need Medea. We'll get rid of her. We don't need anyone to tell us what to do, or how to live. We could make our own rules." Her eyes glazed over distantly as her thumb glided along his brow bone. "Queen Sigyn…King Loki…"

He jerked away from her. "No," he snapped.

He realized, too late, that he had made a grave mistake.

Sigyn smiled cruelly. "I thought you might say that."


	12. Chapter Twelve

**CHAPTER TWELVE**

_"I thought you might say that."_

Sigyn stared at Loki for a long moment, the sinister smile never fading from her lips. Loki's heart hammered against his chest. He had to stop her…attack her, apologize, manipulate her, but he couldn't. Something in the air held him back, weighing him down like a cocoon of overheated blankets threatening to mummify him in the wake of a nightmare.

"Sigyn," he pleaded quietly.

Her smile shattered. She let out a mad, broken scream that seemed to catch in her throat before ringing through the air, and kicked Darcy with the heel of her boot. She upended the bottle completely, her face contorting into an ugly sneer.

Darcy gasped audibly as the stream of venom rained down onto her back. She made a faint, muffled noise in the back of her throat; Loki saw that her eyes were brimming with tears again.

Sigyn snarled incoherently and gave the bottle a rough shake. A wave of venom splashed down on Darcy's back like a slap. She whimpered again, her eyes meeting Loki's for a fraction of a second before looking down again. Loki flinched at the look in her eye; he knew what was going to happen seconds before it did.

Darcy screamed.

Loki screwed his eyes shut as he heard her shriek dissolve into hysterical sobs, curling his hands furiously into fists. _Wait it out…She won't kill Darcy, she can't if she wants you alive…She can't torture her indefinitely…_But how long would it be before the venom ran out, before Darcy blacked out? She could hold on for hours, physically, if not emotionally.

She screamed again as another round of venom poured down upon her. Loki jerked as though the sound were a physical blow to him, a jolt of electricity through his entire body. He hadn't thought it possible that there could be a worse pain in the world than the agony inflicted by the venom upon his bare skin. He was wrong. _I'm so sorry, Darcy…I'm so sorry…_

Sigyn laughed. "Oh, look," she simpered, "he's not trying to stop me. He thinks that if he just stays quiet, I'll eventually give up, because I don't want to kill her. Is that it?"

Loki didn't respond. He would not give her a reaction again. He felt as though his blood was freezing, his stomach was turning in knots; his heartbeat was uneven and hard against his ribcage, but he would not let Sigyn see his fear. He couldn't let her know that she was right. He would not make that mistake again.

Sigyn, realizing that he was refusing to react, answered her own question. "I think that's exactly what you were planning. But it's not going to work," she said sweetly. "Do you know why?" He didn't reply. She pressed on anyway. "Because Medea left me with another bottle," she whispered. Loki heard the clink of two glasses touching and opened his eyes. Between Sigyn's fingers was a second, larger vial—a vial filled with bright gold liquid. Loki's eyes widened. "Oh," she said breathily, "you know this potion."

"Healing elixir," he said. He kept his face smooth, but his throat went dry. _Oh no…_He closed his eyes again. He couldn't let her see his terror, or the tears brimming in his eyes.

She smirked. "One drop of this, and I can make little Darcy here right as rain. And you know what happens once I heal her?"

Loki blinked. He felt tears rolling down his cheeks, but he couldn't fight them anymore, now that he realized what he had done, what he had condemned Darcy to. This couldn't be happening…_Please…please…leave her alone. She's done nothing wrong. I'm the one to blame. _

Sigyn raised her eyebrows with relish. She spoke in a low voice, enunciating every word. "The game—starts—all—over—again." She chuckled. "It will never end. Every second of every day for the rest of my life, I will hurt her. And every day, I will heal her, and the whole magnificent cycle will begin anew." She frowned slightly, glancing at the vial in her hand. Her lips quirked up in the corners, too snide to be a smile. "It seems," she said, "that I am out of venom." Loki watched her, wide-eyed with horror, as she reached into the folds of her dress to retrieve some new horror. She withdrew a dagger, tracing her finger along the tip of it with a look of detached curiosity. "Good thing I have a back-up plan." She moved towards Darcy, holding the knife a fraction of an inch above her skin. Loki tensed and stared intently at Darcy's face. She didn't respond to the knife. She merely looked back at him with a look of unfrightened certainty. He couldn't take it any longer.

"Stop." Loki pressed his hand against the invisible barrier between him and Darcy. He shuddered slightly. "I'll do it."

"You will pledge your love to me?" Loki nodded fervently. "Once you marry Darcy and make her immortal?" He nodded again. Sigyn frowned. "How do I know you're not lying?"

"I swear it," he said darkly, his voice seeming oddly hollow, detached from the way he sounded in his head. He licked his lips. "I promise," he said, "that I will wed Darcy Lewis for the purpose of making her immortal, so that I, by extension, may also be truly immortal. Once my immortality is reestablished, I shall pledge my love to you."

"No loopholes," Sigyn said slowly. He shook his head. She pursed her lips, considering, combing through his words for any possible exception or technicality. She found none. "I accept your terms," she said quietly. She stowed the knife.

Loki went almost visibly limp with relief, every tense muscle in his body suddenly at rest. He sighed softly.

Sigyn scowled darkly between him and Darcy. "You have an hour," she said coolly. Without another word, she left the room. The false stone wall re-materialized in her wake.

**AN: I was planning to write the wedding scene (which explains a lot of the questions you have been asking in reviews, so bear with me) but unfortunately, something very bad has happened in the city next to where I live, and there are several people who live there who are currently in harm's way who I'm quite worried about, and I can't make myself write any more when I'm agitated. More to come tomorrow or Friday, though, can't guarantee which.**


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**AN: Thank you, thank you, for all of your support and prayers. My friends are all fine and safe now, the situation was resolved without any more civilians being hurt.**

So, without further ado, back to the story.

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN**

The moment Thor stepped out of the SHIELD facility, the noise hit him like a shock wave. It seemed as though every person in the city had begun talking at once in frantic tones. In the distance, he heard a high-pitched squealing sound followed by a chorus of screams. A machine gun peppered the air with short bursts of sound a few blocks away.

He looked to Stark and Rogers. "What's happening?" he asked.

"Among other things? Chaos."

Rogers shook his head. "Why would Medea leave the apple so close to SHIELD? If she meant to maximize chaos, wouldn't it make more sense to put the apple in a place as inaccessible to us as she could?"

"Perhaps she didn't know we were here," Thor pointed out. "Perhaps we just got lucky."

"Thor," Stark said flatly, "this isn't Asgard we're talking about. Here on Earth—or Middle Earth or whatever you call it—we have almost two hundred different countries. Within each of those almost-two-hundred-countries are dozens of large cities. Within each of _those_ cities are several neighborhoods."

"The odds of Medea just happening to leave the apple in this immediate vicinity are unbelievably slim," Rogers interrupted before Stark could make further deprecating comment about Thor's ignorance of the Earth. "It can't be a coincidence. She put the apple here for a reason."

Stark _hm_ed quietly. "If the apple is here at all," he said cryptically.

"It can't be far," Thor said. "The apple only works within a small area."

"He's right. SHIELD said that proximity is key. The apple stops working outside of a certain radius."

"A sphere of influence," Stark finished. He gave Rogers a slightly disparaging look. "It may have slipped your notice, Rogers, but the world is very different from the one you knew when you fell asleep." He squinted into the distance. "It's gotten smaller."

Thor stared at him, confused. "How could it—"

"Metaphorically," Stark interrupted impatiently. "It's the same size it always was, but ideas travel faster and farther now thanks to technology. News that used to take hours to transmit can now cross the world in a split second." He sighed. "I suspect the extent of the apple's power has no bounds now. Wherever technology exists to spread ideas, the apple has power."

"Technology," muttered Thor. His eyes lit up. "Oh! You mean like the face book."

Rogers raised an eyebrow. "The what?"

Stark ignored Rogers. "Yes," he said, "like Facebook, or really, any website with that kind of user base and a social aspect to it. Twitter. Google. All of them located around California's Silicon Valley. Medea must have placed the apple within one of their central buildings so the effects would spread through the internet." He turned to Thor. "Can you fly?"

"Not without—"

"Your brother's magic," Stark finished. "Damn."

"We would have needed a plane anyway," Rogers pointed out. "I can't fly either. And will one of you please explain what on Earth this face book—"

Stark had already pulled out his cell phone. "Pepper, I need a plane."

Rogers sighed. "Or just ignore me," he said.

Thor elbowed him. "The face book is quite a wondrous invention," he whispered. "My friend Darcy pushed a button and it painted a portrait of me in the time it takes to blink an eye."

"No, no," Stark said, hanging up the phone. "You're explaining it all wrong. What you're talking about is called a photograph, which you may or may not have known about, Rogers—"

"I know what a photograph is! I'm not that old!"

Stark sighed and surveyed Thor with weary eyes. "It seems I have a lot to explain on our flight. Come on," he said. "We have to get to a clear section of Fourth Street if we want to catch our plane."

* * *

><p>"Darcy…"<p>

Loki rushed towards her the moment the wall had closed. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her to him tightly, rocking her gently. "Darcy," he said, smoothing her hair, "are you alright?" She mumbled something incomprehensible into his shoulder. He pulled her away from him slightly and looked her in the eye. "What?"

"What's the plan?" she asked in a small voice. She shuddered and arched her back for a second. Loki grimaced; he brushed the offending drop of venom off her shoulder. Darcy shivered again before finding her voice. "What's the plan this time? How are we getting out of here?"

Loki's heart twisted painfully. "Darcy," he began hesitantly, trying to keep his expression as neutral as possible even as his eyes stung. She looked back at him hopefully—and then she saw the look on his face. His voice broke. "We aren't getting out of this one," he whispered.

She stared at him, too stunned to speak. When she finally found her voice, it was through tears. "What?" she said.

"I'm sorry." His voice shook with sobs. He pulled her into his arms again and began swaying slowly. "I'm so sorry."

"Why," Darcy said against his chest. Her voice cracked. "Why didn't you help me? Why didn't you use magic? Why didn't you trick her?"

"I couldn't," he replied quietly. He managed to stop his tears. He swallowed harshly against the lump in his throat as he looked down at her, at the distant look in her eyes as if she had stopped caring about the world. "The Girdle doesn't just make the wearer attractive. It makes them compelling…they can compel people to obey their will, just like she made you steal the apple. I couldn't fight against her. I wanted to," he said. "More than I've wanted to do anything in my life. But I couldn't. My mind became dull every time I tried." He stroked Darcy's hair again tentatively. His fingers caught on a lock of hair that had become soaked with venom. He flinched—not for himself, but for Darcy, the venom-soaked hair that still clung to her face. "I would have given anything to make her stop," he said, his voice threatening to break. "I did give everything to make it stop." He tightened his hold on Darcy, pressing his lips against the top of her head in earnest.

"Not everything."

Loki looked down at her, confused.

"You didn't give everything to her." She rested her head against his shoulder with her eyes closed, a peaceful expression on her face, almost as if she intended to sleep there. "You didn't fall in love with her. You resisted her. Somehow."

"Somehow," he echoed. He knew it ought to intrigue him more, this strange immunity he seemed to have against Sigyn's new beauty. But he couldn't bring himself to care. He was too intent upon holding Darcy these last few moments, being in her presence before he had to spend the rest of his days with another. Before he had to pledge his heart falsely to someone he didn't love, someone who wasn't Darcy.

He pressed his lips into a thin line. No; he would not give his heart to another. Not truly. He would promise it, swear it, pledge it, but he would not give it. There was only one promise more binding than what he would give to Sigyn, a promise that rightfully belonged to Darcy.

He closed his eyes for a brief moment. When he opened them, he delicately took Darcy's hand between his own.

She opened her eyes and sat up, looking wearier than Loki had ever seen her. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"I will not marry you against your will," he said tersely. "My conscience, twisted though it may be, would not allow it." Darcy blinked at him, confused, as he took something from his armor and held it up to the light.

Her face softened, and she almost smiled. "Oh," she said quietly.

It was a ring, much like his first attempt—a pair of white gold snakes that intertwined with each other, their eyes gleaming opals. But something was off. She squinted at it.

"It looks different."

"It is different." He traced his finger along the snakes' bodies lightly. "Look at the shape."

She peered at it a moment longer. Her lips split into a full-blown smile, and she joined Loki in memorizing the delicate, looping ring with her fingertips. "Infinity," she said. She slipped the ring onto her finger gently, and leaned forward to touch her forehead against his with a weak laugh. "Only you would continue to be such a hopeless romantic in a time like this."

"What do you mean at a time like this?" he asked. "What makes this time any less suitable for being together than our time in Asgard?" He hesitated. "Besides the fact that you're wearing a tattered nightgown because of when you were kidnapped. And the fact that we've both been crying. And the lunatic woman who, between you and me, seems somewhat homicidal." Darcy smiled at that. "I'm being entirely serious," he said defensively. "What makes this place, this set of circumstances any less suited for love than Asgard?"

Darcy sighed and glanced about the room, playing along. "Are we talking weddings here?"

"I suppose we might be."

She looked around, studying the surroundings with a critical eye. Her eyes fell on the lonely oil lamps in the corner of the room, casting their golden lights in small circles that quickly faded into shadow. "It's dark in here," she pointed out.

"It's candle-lit," he countered.

She bit her lip, trying not to smile again. Loki grinned with her. Where moments before he had wished to die from the hollow pain of it, he felt a strange lightness. He felt at peace. Even in a miserable, dark room, about to be separated forever, they still ended up bantering. His smile faded a touch; he realized with a pang that he would never again be able to speak with her after this precious hour, to joke with her, to tease her, to be serious with her…it would be gone forever.

All the more reason to enjoy it while it lasted.

"Fine," Darcy conceded. She squinted again, trying to find some fault with the room that Loki could not argue with. She found nothing and settled upon herself. "I'm a mess," she said. "I'm not wearing makeup, I've been crying, and my hair looks like something died in it."

"You look perfectly fine without makeup. And your hair does not look like something died in it. It looks…" He paused, trying to find the appropriate word. "Windswept. I've seen mortals on earth try to recreate the look intentionally," he added. "I believe they call it bed-head." _Among other things._ "And the crying just makes your eyes bluer. You look as beautiful as you always do."

"Okay," she said, "so we have different tastes. But what about requirements? There's nobody else here," she pointed out. "How are we supposed to get married with only two people?"

Loki stopped and blinked in confusion. "What do you mean?" he asked slowly.

"Witnesses. We can't just get married by ourselves here. We need other people."

"Er, actually, we don't."

"Yes we do, if we want it valid. We need a priest or a judge, two other witnesses…" Loki shook his head. She stared at him blankly. "What do you mean, 'no?'"

"Asgardian weddings have a different set of requirements," he explained hesitantly. "In order for a wedding between a god and a mortal to be _valid_, to make the mortal into an immortal, there has to be an exchange of vows, and there has to be consummation."

Darcy's eyes widened. "Consu—"

He turned faintly pink. Did he really have to explain this to her? "Consummation," he said stumblingly. "It means…"

"I know what it means," she said, her cheeks suddenly turning very red. She seemed to have lost her ability to speak, and instead she blinked very rapidly for several seconds as she shook her head.

Loki tipped her chin up to face him. "Darcy," he said gently, "if you can't do this—"

"No." She pulled her shoulders back and forced herself to sit up straight. "You said it yourself. There's no way out. This is the only way."

"That's my point, love. I don't want to get married o-or make love to you because I _have_ to, because there's no alternative. I can't force you. It would sicken me and haunt me for the rest of my life if I tried to do something like that."

"But how can you know that I really want this? How could this be my choice if there is no alternative?"

Loki's stomach dropped. He closed his eyes with a faint sigh. "There is _one_ other choice." He felt Darcy's stare, and he opened his eyes—and was stunned to see her looking at him with horror.

"Suicide?" she whispered.

"It is not my preference," he admitted quietly. "But if the alternative is watching you be tortured for the rest of your life—" The words seemed to be racing out of his mouth; he stammered in his hurry to speak. "—or forcing you into doing something that disgusts you, against your will—"

She cut him off with a kiss. He closed his eyes immediately, fervently returning her kiss, wrapping his arms tightly around her. Time seemed to slip away in strange ways. As he kissed her, it felt like a full minute, passing at the speed time does when one is staring at a clock. But the instant they broke apart, he realized that it had been too short, barely even a fraction of a second.

Darcy smiled. "I want to marry you, Loki. I don't care if we're in a dark, dingy room and we both look like hell from crying—well, me more than you." She pressed her forehead against his. "If I'm going to spend the rest of my life in a cell, I want my last memories of you to be good ones."

Loki dipped his head and kissed her again. When he pulled away, he was slightly out of breath. "Marry me?"

"Hell yes."

Loki laughed. He saw Darcy screwing up her face in fierce concentration. "What are you doing?" he asked quietly.

"Trying to make your ring."

He waggled his finger slightly. She concentrated a moment longer before noticing him—and the silver band already on his middle finger. Her face fell. "Oh."

He chuckled and slipped the ring off. "I shouldn't be wearing this yet," he said. He wound his fingers through Darcy's firmly. "First we have to do the vows."

Darcy bit her lip. "I don't know the Asgardian ones. And I'm not totally sure on the English ones either."

"It doesn't matter," Loki assured her. "Just as long as the intent is the same and we make some sort of formal pledge."

Darcy nodded slowly. "Okay."

Loki smiled and nodded his head to her. "You first. I have to do the second part—you can't make yourself a goddess."

Darcy took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "Alright… I, Darcy Lewis, take you—" She frowned. "Are you Laufeyson or Odinson?"

"Doesn't matter as long as we say the same one."

"I, Darcy Lewis, take you, Loki Odinson, to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for good or for goddamn awful, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health—" She shot him a little shaky smile, and opened her eyes to take his hand. Loki couldn't decide whether he wanted to stare at the glowing look on her face or the ring she was putting on his finger. "—in dark, dingy cells or elsewhere, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do us part." She paused. "And who knows? Maybe we can talk your daughter into being flexible on the whole death thing."

Loki had to suppress his smile slightly in order to speak; the impulse was so strong it made his cheeks hurt. He cleared his throat and was about to speak when a thought crossed his mind: _I'm marrying Darcy. I'm getting married. _Immediately, the smile left his face, and he turned solemn. He cleared his throat again, and took Darcy's hand. After a moment of concentration, he slipped a thin silver band over Darcy's finger to join the glittering ring. "I, Loki Odinson," he said seriously, "take you, Darcy Lewis, to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do us part." His lips quirked into a half-smile. "And maybe after." Darcy leaned forward so that the tips of their noses brushed each other. He closed his eyes. "I pronounce us husband and wife; Loki, god of mischief, trickery, lies, deceit, thieves, lawyers, politicians, and all the other sneaky bastards that inhabit the Nine Realms, and Darcy, goddess of…" He hesitated, thinking. After several seconds, he smiled. "Darcy, goddess of luck, chance, coincidence, improvisation, skillful evasion, and sudden changes in fate." He realized suddenly how much shorter Darcy's list of patronages was than his. "And fluffy bunnies," he added with a grin. Darcy sputtered. "I now intend to kiss my bride."

He found his lips cut off by a small hand. He raised an amused eyebrow at Darcy. "_Fluffy bunnies_?" she repeated, dumbfounded.

"Darcy, the vows aren't complete until you kiss me," he said in a sing-song voice.

She scoffed, but relented nonetheless. "You're a bitch."

Loki wound his hands through her hair and kissed her fiercely. As their lips fought for dominance, his heart suddenly sank. He realized all at once that this was it; this was the last time they would ever be together. He pulled away from her slowly. "Arf," he said in a low voice. His brow furrowed and he stared at Darcy with concern. He stroked her cheek lightly. "You're still weak from the venom," he said quietly. "If I hurt you…if I even _begin_ to hurt you…"

"You won't."

Loki nodded and swallowed hard. He hesitantly leaned towards her for another kiss, this one softer, more gentle. Darcy was right; he wouldn't hurt her. This wasn't a mad frenzy of lust racing through his veins. This was goodbye.

A rumble shook the room. Dust and small pieces of rubble rained down upon the floor on the opposite side of the room. Loki tensed and became completely still.

"What?" Darcy said. "What is it?"

"Medea," he said flatly. "She's returned."


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Sooooo… the trailer for Avengers just came out, and I basically watched it seven times just to hear Tom Hiddleston speak and be generally the definition of gorgeous. (Also, just me, or was he totally making eyes at Natasha?)**

**Sorry for the delay…fight choreography is a bit of a bear to write, even with music to help me time it in my head. ("Duel of the Fates" from Revenge of the Sith and "Finale" from Prisoner of Azkaban. Everything instantly takes a level in badass with John Williams.) Without further ado…**

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN**

Rogers squinted at Stark in disbelief.

"You're saying that people just press a few buttons and they can send messages and images and moving pictures halfway around the world in a matter of seconds?" he shouted over the roar of the jet engine.

"Not just halfway," Stark yelled. "All the way. Although occasionally it takes more than a few seconds, depending on how good your wireless connection is."

"Your wha—"

Rogers was cut off by a sudden, invisible blow to the chest that knocked all the air from his lungs. Time seemed to suspend itself for several seconds. Thor and Stark staggered slightly as a shockwave ripped through the air, followed immediately by a flash of bright light and a burst of blistering heat. And then came the sound wave.

It shook the air with its rumbling tones, a single percussive thunderbolt of sound that resonated through the skeleton.

Thor regained his balance first, bracing his hand on the side of the plane for support as he frantically cast his gaze about for the source of the explosion. As the others struggled to find their equilibrium, Thor lurched forward and raced towards the flaming epicenter of the shockwave: the entrance to SHIELD.

"Jane!" he bellowed. "Jane!"

Rogers hurried after him and caught him by the shoulder. "Thor, there's nothing you can do." He shouted something incoherent and jerked his shoulder forward as if to break free from Rogers' grip.

Nothing happened. Thor noticed distantly that something was chirping shrilly, but he didn't particularly care what it was.

He glared at Rogers. "Let me go," he said. "I have to help her. I have to save her. She could be trapped in there under the rubble."

"Nobody could have survived that blast," Rogers said firmly. "You felt the shockwave, and we're a few hundred feet from the entrance of the building at least. Anyone inside the building would have been killed almost instantly, if not by the shockwave, then by the temperature." He lowered his voice slightly. "It would have been too quick for pain."

Thor shook his head. "No, she can't be dead. She's…she's like me. She's strong. She's practically immortal. Maybe she survived something that a mortal, a human couldn't…"

Stark cleared his throat quietly. The other two turned to look at him with a glare. "I don't think her strength really has anything to do with it." He held up his cell phone.

Thor seized it from him instinctively and peered at the screen.

_Thanks for the tip. I'll inform my men to stay off the internet. SHIELD Facility just destroyed. No agents present at time of explosion. Civilian Intelligence Unit was already en route to City Hall to negotiate a hostage situation. Tell Thor that FOSTER IS SAFE and to get his ass to California. Your priority must be to find the root of the problem and remove it. Protecting civilians is my job right now. –NF_

He let out a shaky laugh. "She's safe." He tried to hand the phone back to Stark; Rogers intercepted it to read for himself. "Thank the All-Father, she's safe."

Rogers frowned. "Civilian Intelligence Unit," he muttered to himself.

"Analysts," Stark said, taking his phone back abruptly. "Scientists, diplomats. Essentially, anyone without a military rank or a gun. It sounds as though they noticed Foster's ability to negotiate when she was trying to get her research back so they're bringing her along to their little trade-off with the hostage taker." He glanced around and pushed a button on his wrist casually. A small compartment opened up on his leg like a pocket. He stashed his phone. "Gentlemen, I believe we have a flight to catch."

Thor boarded the plane last. He glanced over his shoulder at the door of the cabin to look over the smoldering wreckage of the street.

_Be safe, Jane._

* * *

><p>Loki slid automatically to shield Darcy from the door. She rested her hands on his shoulders, using him as leverage to get a better view of the entryway.<p>

"I'm not immortal yet," she whispered frantically. "We only got through the vows. What's Sigyn going to do when she finds out that our time is up and we haven't—"

"Our time isn't up," he said grimly. Darcy stared at him. He met her gaze evenly, his brow set in a tense line. "It's only been a quarter hour. I don't think that this was part of the plan."

Darcy began to reply. Loki cut her off with a hushing sound. He put a finger to his lips warningly. She fell silent and they both looked to the door, waiting for lighting to strike.

"What are you doing? No…No, stop!"

Loki closed his eyes and gritted his teeth as a piercing shriek echoed through the halls of Medea's home. The sound hung in the air for a long moment, shuddering and bouncing off the walls in a keening wail, until it had faded into a shrill whisper. Darcy gasped quietly.

"Was that—"

Loki nodded.

"But why?"

"Because, speaking from experience, world domination is a one-man job. There's no room for co-operation, especially when you're dealing with double agents. Medea must have realized that once she had me, Sigyn had no reason to remain loyal. She was a threat."

"There can be only one."

"Something like that."

His eyes snapped open as a thought crossed his mind. He glanced at Darcy.

"Wait a moment—"

"—if Medea killed Sigyn…the girdle—"

"—is useless," Loki finished, his eyes gleaming. He took Darcy's hands and rose, pulling her to her feet as he stood. "Come on," he said hurriedly.

Hand in hand, Darcy and Loki went straight to the door. Loki reached out to part the wall—only to find that the stone had disappeared beneath his fingers. He looked up from his hand abruptly, and found himself staring straight into a pair of bright, gold eyes.

He took a step back instinctively, his gaze never wavering from Medea's stare.

"Darcy, run," he said in a low voice.

"I'm not leaving until you do."

He glanced at her in his peripheral vision. "Darcy," he hissed furiously, "run."

"No," she snapped in a whisper.

Medea laughed quietly and raised her arm. Loki's hand shot up reflexively to deflect her spell. Darcy jumped as a beam of gold shot from Medea's hand and bounced off of Loki's palm to hit the ceiling. The roof shuddered from the blow, sending gravel and dust raining down upon the trio.

"Yes, run, little girl," Medea said in a mocking lilt. "Let your big, strong husband protect you. He certainly did a fine job of rescuing you, didn't he?" She laughed with genuine mirth, gesturing wildly. "A veritable knight in shining armor, come to rescue the damsel in distress."

She yelped quietly and jumped to the side as a bolt of green raced towards her. It hit the wall harmlessly over her head with a loud cracking sound. Medea recovered herself and smirked at Loki—only to find that he was as confused as she was, staring at Darcy with a strange mixture of pride and horror.

Darcy lowered her arm slowly, her glare never wavering from Medea's sneering face. "I don't damsel," she snarled.

Medea gave a low chuckle. "The little mortal knows magic," she simpered. "Good. I love a challenge." She stepped forward slowly, each footfall deliberate and precise. Loki and Darcy backed away, glancing at each other intermittently.

Loki stared at Darcy out of the corner of his eye. "You are being incredibly stubborn," he pointed out.

"What, you expected different?"

He smiled faintly.

"What's the plan?" she said, so softly that he could barely hear her. His eyes darted pointedly towards the corners of the room, one on his side and the other in Darcy's end of the chamber. She nodded.

Before Medea could say a word about their silent exchange, Darcy sprinted to her end of the room. At the wall, she turned on her heel and sent fire shooting out of her fingertips. Medea spun about to face her. Her hands turned strangely bright like silver, as though her fingers were made of mirrors, sending the fire skittering harmlessly across the floor as it deflected away from her.

Loki stepped lightly around Medea's other side to strike her from the back. He drew his dagger silently, prepared to strike.

She twirled around so quickly that Loki scarcely saw her move before the blade was tumbling from his fingers. He noticed out of the corner of his eye that Darcy was slouching slightly and rubbing her hands together, no longer shooting fire from her fingers. Her eyes widened suddenly. She dropped to her knees and flattened herself against the ground.

Loki's stomach knotted for a moment before he realized—Darcy hadn't collapsed. She had ducked. He dropped to his knees and tumbled into a somersault as a force that whipped through the room like a gale whistled over his head. He heard a loud crumbling sound as the force hit the wall: a shock wave.

He came to a stop, crouched down on the ground with his hands planted on the floor. He looked up at Medea slowly, jerking his head to get his hair out of his eyes. He panted softly and slumped in a gesture of surrender. Then he lunged forward on his knees, bringing his hand forward as if to punch the air. His fingers crackled as he sent a bolt of lightning flying from his fingertips.

Medea sidestepped the bolt easily. It glanced harmlessly off the wall with a dying shriek. He jolted forward onto his other knee and threw his other hand towards her. He felt the hair at the base of his neck stand on end as the air sizzled with electricity. His aim was true, directly on target—but the target had vanished.

Medea rematerialized almost a foot away, in the center of the room.

Loki found her instantly, his gaze reflexively tracking every miniscule movement she made, recalculating his next move with ever second.

_Center. Pros, attack from all angles, flexibility of movement. Cons, unable to corner, easier to miss._

He met Darcy's eyes in his peripheral vision and dipped his chin almost imperceptibly. Medea caught his gesture and turned to look for Darcy's reply—a quick nod.

_Bait taken._

The instant she looked away, Loki leapt to his feet. He threw his hands down to his sides, feeling the familiar chill take to his bones and spread like a cold fire down his arms to his hands as they turned to glowing spheres of blue.

Medea felt the cold snap and spun about to look at him. Darcy stood up behind Medea's back. Loki let his gaze linger upon her hands a moment longer than he normally might as a synapse of panic shot through his mind. _There's no plants. How can she fight without plants to manipulate?_

Loki jumped as Darcy's hands burst again into flames. He licked his lips anxiously, eyes dancing across her face to analyze her expression. _What's she playing at? She can't keep this up for long. Fire is an energy drain. _He was about to shake his head at her in warning when he noticed Medea's face turn ever so slightly towards Darcy's side of the room.

Loki struck first, stabbing at Medea's torso precisely, methodically working around the densest sections of her armor, the arrangement of her arms. But every punch that he took seemed to miss its mark as Medea blocked his blows with the palms of her hands. Loki narrowed his eyes. Her hands looked very strange…he could scarcely make them out, but from what he could see of them, they seemed to be transparent—not invisible, he could still see where the light bent around them, distorting his vision, but colorless and without a defined shape.

Darcy threw her hands about in wild swings as though every strike was her last, her arms a dancing inferno of tangerine lights flashing and dimming in erratic cycles.

Medea brushed off Darcy's attack almost effortlessly; she waved her hand as though brushing away a fly. Darcy stumbled backwards as her own momentum was deflected into her body. She threw her arms out to the sides for balance and staggered back, struggling to stand. Medea drew her arm back for a lethal blow.

Loki's mind went blank. There was no conscious decision to move forward, to lurch towards Medea; he was a puppet on a string, pure reflex and muscle memory wiping away all hints of cohesive thought. He swung at Medea's back.

Medea turned on her heel. Her hand found the center of Loki's chest, in the middle of his ribcage. He gasped automatically and doubled over in pain. Medea lifted her leg to kick his knees out. He stumbled and fell to the floor with a soft grunt. Grinning like a fox, she leaned over Loki to go in for the kill.

A yell tore through the air. Medea and Loki looked up in stunned unison. Medea scarcely had time to react before Darcy descended upon her with fiery hands, her eyes blazing with fury.

The older woman went on the defensive, driven back by Darcy's unrelenting ferocity. The flames bounced harmlessly off of Medea's armor, but every time she tried to raise her arm for a counterstrike, Darcy's violent attacks forced her to take cover.

After several seconds of back and forth, Medea snapped. She bellowed angrily and deflected Darcy's blow straight into the ground with a shock wave.

The room shuddered. Darcy swayed slightly on her feet, and she struggled to keep her balance. Loki peered up at her in a panic, still doubled in pain as he watched her knees shake and threaten to give out, her face pale. She was running out of energy…but apparently not fast enough for Medea.

Medea let loose another shockwave, this one so strong that Loki could see it ripple through space, distorting everything it touched like a rounded lens, before it hit Darcy squarely in the chest. He yelped incoherently as Darcy's eyes widened and she flew across the room into the wall opposite. She hit the wall without a sound before slumping to the floor like a rag doll.

Medea grinned. Her footsteps echoed throughout the room as she strode deliberately towards Darcy, each footfall seeming like a drum beat in Loki's ears. His face contorted in fury and he pushed himself slowly to his feet, holding back the roar of fury that threatened to spill forth, even as every fiber of his being wanted to scream out in anger.

With a tiny _slick_ing sound, Medea drew a stiletto knife from her sheath.

Loki couldn't hold still any longer. He sprang to his feet and dived at Medea, not sure what he intended to do once he had tackled her, only that he had to stop her from finishing off Darcy. Her eyes widened in shock; she had no time to react before Loki was colliding with her. They tumbled clumsily to the ground, both of them letting out a grunt of pain as they slammed against the stone floor. The momentum was too much to combat. Loki found himself rolling off and away from Medea the second they hit the ground. He heard the shiver-inducing sound of metal shrieking against stone; Medea's dagger spun off across the room like a top.

Without so much as a pause or a breath, Medea got to her feet. She waved a hand through space and murmured something in a foreign tongue. The air between her fingers rippled and shone for a moment before turning into a long rod of silver liquid that solidified in her hand: a sword. Loki imitated her; within seconds, he was holding a sword of his own.

He slid his feet into a combat stance without thinking, his heart pounding somewhat unevenly. Swordplay never had been his strength. But he couldn't bring magic to a swordfight and live; not without destroying the entire room and Darcy in the process. He stared intently at Medea, studying her every move.

She glared back at him, a challenge gleaming in her golden eyes.

Without warning, she sprang into action, raising the blade over her head and swinging down.

Their swords met in mid-air with an ear-splitting _clash _that vibrated through Loki's arms; he gritted his teeth against the shaking as he raised his sword again. He parried Medea's upward stab, his arms tensing as their blades locked, each fighting to break past the other.

Medea yanked away first, snarling. She drew her arms back to swing; Loki saw the motion coming before it happened. He jumped as she swung low, her blade whistling through the air scarcely an inch beneath his knees. His feet landed back on the ground with a satisfying thump as Medea struggled to maintain her balance. He saw his opportunity and swung downwards at her defenseless head.

She parried easily, his strike glancing off of her blade as though it were nothing more than a faint tap. Loki backed away slightly, staggering. His mind raced through strategies and came up blank.

Medea licked her lips. "Silver tongue can't win this battle for you, can it?" she taunted breathlessly. Loki growled under his breath and lunged forward to attack once more. Their swords locked again, steel stalemating against steel. Loki loosened his grip on the handle and spun about, using the blade as an axis. He broke free from the gridlock, momentum sending his sword swinging about in a wide circle.

He lost his balance; his arms flew out instinctively to steady himself.

He felt the tip of a blade at the base of his throat. Loki stared down the bridge of his nose, panicked, as he realized what was happening. He looked up to find himself staring directly into Medea's sadistic smirk. His heart thudded unevenly.

"It's over," she laughed.

And then she froze. Her face went slightly slack, her eyes widening unconsciously. Loki stared at her, not daring to move, as her bright gold eyes turned glassy. She gazed over his shoulder as if looking at something from a great distance. Her lips turned up in the faintest hint of a smile, no longer mocking and cold, but joyful and somewhat sad at the same time. She let out a quiet, broken whisper.

"Jason?" she murmured faintly.

Her eyes never wavered as she crumpled to the ground, the armor on her back growing more drenched with scarlet every second. She collapsed onto the floor with her arm outstretched, reaching for something that nobody else could see. When she stopped moving, her lips were frozen in a smile.

Loki looked up in speechless astonishment only to see Darcy limp forward to prod Medea's body with her toe. Her nose wrinkled as she wiped the blade of Medea's dagger on her nightdress. She looked as though she might throw up.

She chuckled quietly. "Remember when I said that attacking an army of frost giants with plants was the coolest thing I've ever done?"

Loki nodded, smiling slightly.

"I've changed my mind." She staggered two steps forward, her legs wobbling and threatening to give out. Loki stepped into her as she fell. She stumbled into his chest. She pressed her face into his collarbone, shaking violently. Loki wrapped his arms around her tightly, holding her even closer than she held herself to him. He felt her lips move against his throat.

"It's over," she said breathlessly. "We're alive."

His eyes stung with tears. "Yes." He kissed the top of her head. "Yes, we are."

**AN: I guess it's time to wrap up this story. This is probably the penultimate chapter, although there could be two more, I suppose. Suffice it to say, this story is almost done.**

**But fear not: there is more to come. Once I finish "Discord," I will begin work on my third and **_**final**_** story in this saga—"Kismet." It may sadden some of you to know that the third story will be the last, but as a writer, I feel it would be overkill to continue beyond the end of "Kismet." The story ends itself in a way that stands on its own. **


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**AN: Last chapter. (Well, almost. There might be a little "post-credits" chapter after that...that might possibly tie into "Kismet," wink wink, nudge nudge.) **

**Also, something I forgot a few chapters back: credit goes to **_**cloudlake**_** for the fluffy bunny idea—she (she, right?) mentioned it in passing in response to one of my responses to her reviews (RESPONSE-CEPTION! BWAHHHHHHM BWHAAAAAAAHHHM) and it was too funny to pass up. **

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN**

Darcy and Loki returned to Asgard uneventfully, but were surprised to find on their arrival that Jane and Thor had not yet returned from Earth. Darcy tried to persuade Loki to bring her back to Earth to search for them, but he would have none of it. After several minutes of arguing (and numerous attempts at unfair persuasion by both parties) Darcy resigned herself to stay on Asgard until she had healed from the wounds suffered at Sigyn's hands. But the whole debate was quickly rendered meaningless, for within moments of Darcy's surrender and subsequent lying down to rest on one of the infirmary cots, a portal opened up on the front steps of the palace, bringing with it Thor and Jane looking decidedly exhausted.

Before Loki could stop her, Darcy had sprinted out of bed to greet them. She passed out in the corridor barely a hundred feet from the infirmary exit. Once he had carried her back to the cot, Loki went to get Thor and Jane himself and told them in no uncertain terms to get to the infirmary as fast as they could before Darcy _nagged_ him to death.

When they arrived in the room, it was nearly five minutes before any actual conversation took place, what with the squealing and repeated statements of gratitude that everyone else in the room was still alive. But once they began talking, Darcy became unusually quiet, and answered Jane's questions about her time in Medea's lair with uncharacteristic brevity—not because she was uncomfortable talking about it, but because she had already lived it once and wanted to hear instead what had happened to Jane and Thor. Loki took the hint and pointedly asked Jane to tell her side of the story.

At this, Jane's face visibly lit up.

"Darcy," she said, smiling broadly, "you're not going to believe this…"

Darcy froze. "Oh no…"

"No, no, this is a _good_ surprise." She rolled her lips together, scarcely able to suppress her obvious excitement so she could speak without laughing. "SHIELD offered me a job as head astrophysicist of the organization. They're going to let me do research with them, access top secret information, on every single crash site, every single wormhole, every single _everything_ to do with space from now on." She bounced on Darcy's bed excitedly. "_And_ guess who my second-in-command is."

"You mean—" Darcy grinned.

Jane nodded. "Erik. He's already working on a new crater site, actually. In Kazakhstan. I'm joining him on Monday."

"That's awesome! Can I come along? I haven't seen him in forever."

Jane's face fell. "Oh…um…"

Darcy gaped for a moment in surprise, and then closed her mouth with a start. "Oh, wait. Top secret."

"I'm sorry," Jane said, frowning. "Your internship was with me and Erik, not with SHIELD. I would've asked, but I didn't think you'd be interested, since you're, you know, political science, not…"

Darcy waved a hand at her. "Eh, it's fine. The whole space-physics thing kind of went over my head, anyway." She narrowed her eyes. "Although, now that you mention it…getting a job on Earth doesn't sound too bad." She grimaced. "I'd have to file the paperwork for those six credits, though. And go to law school."

"That's negotiable." Darcy raised an eyebrow at Loki curiously. He shrugged innocently. "I might be able to pull a few magical strings, let you skip the law school part, get you a license to practice…"

"You are absolutely despicable."

"I try."

Darcy rolled her eyes and flopped her head over to face Thor. "So, what'd you get up to?"

"Oh, you know…Met Tony Stark and Steve Rogers—who I am informed also go by Iron Man and Captain America—joined forces with them, saved the world…"

"The usual, then?" Loki said dryly. Darcy elbowed him lightly.

"Shut up, I want to hear what happened." She sat up in her cot, her eyes bright like a kid in a candy shop. "You _met_ Tony Stark?" Thor nodded. Darcy whistled quietly. "That is so cool. So what did you guys do once you 'joined forces?' Stop speeding trains? Save babies from being crushed by giant robots?"

"Actually, we went to California."

"You _what_?"

"We went to California." He hesitated. "Northern California, I should say. Stark wanted to go to Los Angeles to, I believe his exact words were, 'hit the beach,' although I have no idea why he would want to fight a geographical feature…He also said something about _bikinis_, which I can only assume is something in a foreign language." Jane and Darcy exchanged a grin, but said nothing. Loki opened his mouth to speak, but Darcy shook her head.

_Later_, she mouthed. He nodded.

Thor continued, oblivious to the silent conversation. "In any case, we went to Northern California to the headquarters of the face book."

"Shut up!" Darcy squealed. "Shut up, you did _not _go to Facebook headquarters!" She leaned forward, grinning. "That is so freaking cool! Did you get to meet Mark Zuckerberg? Was he cute?" Loki sputtered. "_Kidding_," she said defensively, "Just kidding. Seriously, though, what the hell were you guys doing at Facebook?"

"The Apple was located there," Thor said. "I must confess, I have no idea why the Apple was there, or how this internet business works—Stark tried to explain it on the plane, but he got sidetracked and had to tell me what computers were. Regardless, the Apple was there, and we found it. We had to fight through some very angry cooks to get to it, and Rogers had to keep Stark from harassing some of the younger women—twice—but we got it."

"Oh," Darcy frowned. "What took you so long, then?"

"Once the Apple was gone, I still had to clean up a couple of hostage situations that continued longer than they should have," Jane said.

"And the Apple had to be disposed of," said Thor.

"Disposed of?" Loki repeated. "You mean to say you destroyed it?"

"No. We merely moved it somewhere far away, somewhere without people."

"Antarctica?" Darcy suggested. Thor began to answer, but she burst out talking again. "No, wait, then the penguins would all kill each other, and that would be sad, because penguins are cute. Where _did_ you put the Apple?"

"Heimdall opened a portal, and we threw the Apple through it. It was a portal to the planet Pluto."

"Dwarf planet," Jane corrected automatically. Thor glanced at her. She bit her thumbnail absently. "Pluto's not a planet."

"It is so!" said Darcy.

"No, it isn't. It was reclassified as a dwarf planet years ago."

They argued back and forth for a very long time over whether or not Pluto was, in fact, a planet. They eventually came to two separate conclusions: Jane, that Darcy was irrational and incredibly childish sometimes; Darcy, that Pluto _was_ a planet, dammit, and that nothing Jane said could convince her of such sorcerers' ways.

In the midst of this conversation, Thor and Loki slipped away unnoticed. They had important matters to discuss…and events to plan and set in motion.

* * *

><p>"Loki Odinson, do you take Darcy Lewis to be your lawful wedded wife?"<p>

"I do."

"Do you, Darcy Lewis, take Loki Odinson to be your lawful wedded husband?"

"I do."

"Then I pronounce you husband and wife; Loki, god of mischief, trickery, lies, deceit, thieves, lawyers, politicians, and all those who make a living by their cunning; and Darcy, goddess of luck, chance, coincidence, improvisation, skillful evasion, and sudden changes in fate."

"And fluffy bunnies," Loki whispered out of the corner of his mouth, smirking. Darcy nudged him in the side, but he just grinned more widely and held her hand even tighter. He tried with some difficulty not to laugh as Darcy rolled her eyes at him.

Odin looked up from the book, either oblivious to their exchange or choosing deliberately to ignore it. "You may now kiss the bride."

Loki pushed back Darcy's veil hastily and leaned in, closing his eyes. Suddenly, he heard a popping sound and a strange sensation filled him, as though his veins were filled with bubbles floating about beneath his skin. He opened his eyes warily, lips still puckered awkwardly. His eyes widened.

He had no idea where he was. He was staring at something large and white that looked as though it were covered in satin—but it was not all the same material. Out of the satiny material came something cream-colored and slightly less smooth. His heart stopped. _Oh no…_ He craned his neck and looked up…and up, and up, and up as far as he could see.

The entire congregation roared with laughter at the sight of the tiny, black bunny on the floor next to the bride's feet, its floppy ears twitching about and its big, round eyes darting all over the room in a panic.

Darcy giggled and stooped over to pick the bunny up. It fit comfortably in the palms of her two hands, a tiny little ball of shivering, silky black fur with green eyes that almost seemed to _scowl_ at her. She closed her eyes and kissed it lightly on the nose.

With a second pop, much louder than the first, Darcy found herself all at once kissing her new husband, restored to his humanoid form, with all traces of a bunny-scowl erased from his face as they joyfully kissed.

Loki raised an eyebrow as they broke apart. "You realize, of course, that I am obliged as the god of mischief to get you back for that someday?"

"Do your worst."

**AN: Stay tuned for scenes from our next episode.**

**To answer a few queries I've received regarding the next story..._yes_, it will feature more of Jane and Thor than this story did. Much more. Yes, it will be longer than this story; it may even be longer than Mendacity-the scope of this story is pretty big. Yes, we will be seeing more of the Avengers. The rest of the questions I received come too close to revealing plot points for me to answer them honestly.**


	16. Epilogue

**EPILOGUE**

Urd's eyes snapped open.

Her companions stared at her, leaning forward to look into her eyes.

"I have it," she whispered. She closed her eyes and extended her hands to the two women, her wrinkled fingers cold and shaking in their palms. "I can feel it."

The second woman, too, closed her eyes. She inhaled slowly through her nose. "Yes," she hissed. "I sense it too. It is here."

The third woman closed her eyes for only a brief moment before she opened them, staring with wide eyes at something invisible in the air. "It's horrible," she muttered. "I can't bear to look."

"But we must, Skuld. Such is our task."

Skuld licked her lips and reluctantly, she closed her eyes once more. She shuddered faintly, her eyes rolling back behind her lids. And then, she spoke, in a hoarse groan that was matched by her companions.

"_Out of Odin's blood_

_The Catalyst is born_

_The son of Odin's son_

_Shall make the whole world mourn_

_The end of days is looming_

_Apocalypse draws nigh_

_An evil now is stirring_

_It breathes a waking sigh_

_The only means to cease this,_

_On which choice it doth depend,_

_Is to slay the son of Odin's son_

_To make him meet his end._"


End file.
